


(In)Visible

by Saetha



Series: 6th Sense AU [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: (of minor character), 6th Sense AU, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse, Bullying, Child Death, Family Death, Ghosts, Implied homophobia, PTSD, There are quite a few sweet moments in there too though, Trauma, Violence, implied suicide, other minor characters from the Company & co, sheesh these tags sound cheery, suspected child abuse (untrue), suspected self-harm (untrue), trans!Fili
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 51,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5328545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saetha/pseuds/Saetha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 6th Sense AU. Frodo Baggins is living with his uncle Bilbo after the death of his parents a few years ago. However, he has a secret that he cannot tell anyone about - even thought it frightens him beyond measure. One day he meets Thorin Oakenshield, child psychiatrist who is grappling with his own problems and demons after a break-in into his and his husband's home not long ago. Maybe fate has given him one more chance to set right what went wrong and the two will be able to help each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyyy lovelies, here is the project that has kept me on the edge for most of October and November. The 6th Sense is one of my most favourite movies of all time and when I rewatched it recently I noticed that it would make for a great AU and then the plot bunnies started running...and I wrote this baby within a good month, basically, and then spent another proofreading it xD. I decided to post this as a sort of Dworin Advent Calendar, so you'll get one chapter each day up to and including the 24th! Of course screen -> writing doesn't always transition smoothly so I've changed certain things and enriched the plot a little, especially the Dworin aspect of it, although some pieces of dialogue I have taken over as they were. I hope you'll enjoy this (and please heed the warnings)!
> 
> Also, I have one tiny request for you - if those of you who have seen the movie could be so kind as NOT to spoiler the plot in the comments, that would be great (you can always send me messages on Tumblr instead if you would like to shout at me about certain things).

_The day he first meets Dwalin will forever be firmly embedded in his mind. A day that starts like any other day, the only difference being that he has ventured to the antiquities shop down the street on his way back home to see if he can find a new bookend to replace the one that has broken a few days ago._

_The man who greets him politely when he steps inside isn't the shop owner he's used to from his previous visits. No, this one is a good bit taller, his head bald and a few tattoos showing where his shirt ends. His appearance seems slightly at odds with the little antiquities shop's interior. At Thorin's questioning glance the man gives him a little smile that makes his eyes sparkle._

_"If you're looking for Balin who actually owns this place I'm afraid he's gone for a few days to settle some private matters. I'm his brother Dwalin and I'll be filling in whilst he's gone. So if I can help you in any way..."_

_"Actually, you can." Thorin smiles back at him and quickly describes the kind of bookend he is looking for. Dwalin nods and moves into the back of the shop, beckoning Thorin to follow him._

_After a moment it becomes clear that Dwalin_ doesn't _quite know what he is looking for. Thorin doesn't mind - he has lots of time this evening and he has to admit that he certainly doesn't regret the opportunity to study Dwalin's backside a little more closely as he is searching for the bookends._

_"I'm sorry." Dwalin turns around and looks rather apologetic. "I could've sworn the last time I looked there were a few bookends here which I think you might like..."_

_"It's not a problem." Thorin offers and he means it. "I can always just wander around and look for them myself..."_

_"No, no, give me just one more moment..." Dwalin goes back to the counter and takes up the telephone receiver, dialling a number. Thorin follows him but stops a few steps away so as not to intrude. It isn't quite far away enough for Thorin not to be privy to the conversation although he turns away politely to pretend and study some old candle sticks so that it doesn't seem like he's listening in. Some of the words are still floating in his direction, however, and he can't help but overhear them._

_"Balin, I need your help. Yes, YES I'm fine but I have a customer here who...yeah. Yeah, in fact he's rather cute in a way and I need you to help me find those damn bookends he's looking for, wait..."_

_Thorin tries not to grin or chuckle, but it's rather hard. He is sure that Dwalin hadn't meant for him to hear that latter part but now that he has he can't help but wonder whether it means what he thinks it might mean._

_He leaves the shop fifteen minutes later, his new bookends wrapped up nicely and securely tucked into the bag over his shoulder. For some reason he finds it hard to concentrate on his work preparation for the next day that evening, the glance of Dwalin's grey eyes and the way his smile makes them shine always fighting their way back into his mind._

_*_

Thorin was looking down the long street with its neat little houses left and right. It was a normal suburban area outside central London but still close enough to catch the Tube in. Not a bad place to live at with many families around but with rents that were still affordable enough for normal middle class people. The morning was grey and cold, a reminder that winter was not yet over although the calendar might say so. He huddled a little more tightly inside his coat, pushing his hands deep inside his pockets. The bleak winter morning was aligning perfectly with his thoughts - the boy he was waiting for might turn out to be one of his more complicated cases.

He sighed quietly and mentally went through what he knew about the lad named Frodo Baggins who was to become his newest patient. He had recently turned eight years old and was now living with his uncle in the exact same street where Thorin was standing and waiting for him. His parents had died when he had been four and his uncle had since adopted him. Although the boy had apparently appeared 'odd' before first to his parents and then his uncle, his behaviour had grown stranger in the past year. Both his school and his uncle had reported that he had been talking about violent scenarios and was frightening the other children. Furthermore, he had been the subject of bullying from both his class mates and other pupils at his school and found it very hard to adapt to social situations.

Thorin had read profiles like this one often enough before, although the acute violence in Frodo's speech baffled him slightly since it didn't seem to stem from any TV programmes or anything else that the boy could have seen, although anything was possible nowadays with the internet really. Thorin rubbed his brow with a gloved hand, memories coming up in his mind of a boy very similar to this one who he'd not been able to help. They weren't pleasant memories and he tried to subdue them as fast as possible; but for all that he was a trained psychiatrist he had trouble doing so. _What a fine doctor you make_ , he thought amusedly. If Dwalin were here he probably would have scolded him and laughed at the same time. He shook his head and tried to concentrate on the task at hand. He had meant to meet Frodo the previous day but the boy hadn't come and so he had resulted to waiting for him when he came out of the house that morning. He just hoped he wouldn't look too suspicious so that a well-meaning neighbour would call the police down on him.

Finally the door to the house opened. Thorin looked down at his watch; it was still over an hour until the beginning of school and the way wasn't very long. As he'd suspected, Frodo was going early, maybe to evade the bullies that had been plaguing him. He took a few quick steps towards him, trying not to look intimidating.

"Hey." he smiled.

Frodo turned around and his eyes widened when he saw him. His steps sped up until he was walking quickly, breaking into a run when he saw that Thorin was following him. Thorin cursed quietly, not wanting to appear like he was chasing the boy, but he had to know where Frodo was going. This might be his only chance to initiate a proper talk between them - he had never been a friend of forcing the children to come to him and especially not of doing so with violence.

He followed Frodo as fast as possible without appearing like he was running after him. After a few turns of the street he could see him slipping between two doors into the interior of a small chapel. Thorin sighed and walked after him; he had grown up in a Jewish family but never been overly religious. Still, he could understand the solace Frodo was seeking in the small room that was too small to have any priests dedicated to it. Maybe it helped him to focus his thoughts - it would almost certainly serve to hide him from any bullies.

Thorin opened the door and slipped inside the chapel. He couldn't see Frodo at first, but after a moment he heard his voice and the quiet clacking of plastic on wood. Carefully he stepped closer, making sure that his steps were loud enough to be heard so the boy could escape again if he wanted to do so. He had no desire to frighten or corner him. For the moment, however, Frodo seemed to ignore him, completely intent on playing with the LEGO figures in his hands. Thorin could make out a soldier figure that he couldn't quite place, Iron Man and Darth Vader. Frodo was talking under his breath, not looking up when Thorin sat down in the bench before his. Thorin strained to hear what he was saying and thought he could make out some Latin words, noting them down in his head for later. He gave the boy some time to become accustomed to his presence before he spoke to him when it became clear that Frodo wouldn't run away again.

"Hello, Frodo." he said gently. Frodo still didn't look up at him, but after a moment the soldier and Darth Vader appeared on the back of the bench that Thorin was leaning against, obviously fighting against each other.

"Is that Darth Vader?" Thorin asked him, pointing at the black LEGO figurine. Frodo didn't reply, but made a few sounds that could be interpreted as lightsabers instead. Thorin smiled; he remembered all too well his own love for the franchise and the number of times he had rewatched both the old and the new trilogy together with Dwalin. 'May the force be with you' was probably one of the most often used quotes in their household.

"And where are the Jedi?" Thorin decided to keep on forging ahead. He heard a quiet rustle and noted with a smile that the boy was sitting up a little straighter.

"They've all been defeated by the evil imperator." Frodo told him. He had a quiet but earnest voice, a boy who had learned to be silent and not to draw unnecessary attention to himself. "And now they've turned into ghosts."

"So who's gonna fight the imperator now?" Thorin was careful to appear completely unaffected by what the boy had just said.

"Iron man! And Sam the soldier." Frodo told him, bringing up the Iron Man figurine. For a while Thorin watched him mock fighting with the small LEGO figures before he reminded himself that the lad's school would be starting soon. He had to somehow win his trust before Frodo headed off again.

"Is there anything special about the soldier?" he asked Frodo. The boy shook his head, but seemed to think for a moment.

"He can see the dead Jedi. They help him against Darth Vader." he then explained to Thorin who smiled at his words. He'd already suspected that Frodo had a very lively imagination, although his eyes narrowed when they caught sight of a few scratches peeking out from under Frodo's clothing. Self-inflicted? His uncle? Or the bullies at school maybe? He made another mental note.

"That sounds like great help he's having there." Thorin tried to sound encouraging and softened his voice for the next bit. "Frodo, do you know who I am?"

Frodo looked up at him and Thorin felt like he was punched into the chest by the look from his clear and deeply blue eyes. There was something in them that struck a chord deep inside him and he almost lowered his gaze before the boy did. Frodo just shook his head in answer to his question.

"My name is Thorin Oakenshield. We were supposed to meet up yesterday but that didn't seem to work out. I'm a doctor and maybe I'll be able to help you."

Frodo went very still at Thorin's words and Thorin almost feared he had scared the boy too much. Then Frodo took a shuddering breath and looked at him again.

"I'm Frodo." he said very quietly even though Thorin had used his name before. "Are you a good doctor?"

"Until a while ago I thought I was, yeah." Thorin could feel his smile slipping slightly. _Don't think of it. Not now._ he told himself and firmly pushed the memories back to the edges of his mind. "I even got an award for my work, an honorary doctorate from Oxford."

His old tutor in Cambridge had laughed when'd heard of the story and congratulated him whole-heartedly.

"But there was someone I couldn't help and now I'm not so sure anymore." he admitted, the familiar feeling of his chest tightening running through him. Frodo nodded as if he understood what he was saying although he could have no way of knowing what had truly happened.

"I don't think you'll be able to help me." Frodo stated quietly and returned to playing with his figures.

Thorin watched him for a while longer, resisting the urge to ask him why. The reason was plain - the boy didn't trust him and he was sure the school counsellors and others had probably tried to help him before and it hadn't worked. He preferred not to give him empty promises but let his actions speak instead. When Frodo bent down to retrieve his Iron Man figure that had fallen down, something slipped from his pocket and clattered to the stonen floor of the little chapel. When he came up again he was holding the item in his hand, unconsciously running his fingers over it.

"Is that your phone?" Thorin asked him gently. The phone the boy was holding looked rather old, something that might have been modern five years ago.

Frodo shook his head but aborted the movement halfway through.

"It was my Ma's." he said very quietly. "She forgot it the day they-...when they went out to the lake. It doesn't work anymore, though."

Thorin smiled reflexively although he knew it was tinged with sadness, knowing that Frodo was talking about the day his parents had gone on a small sailing daytrip from which they had never returned when an unexpected storm had swept through the area and capsized their boat. Dís had always told him he had too much empathy for his job.

"Do you want me to have a look at it? My partner might be able to repair it..." he offered Frodo almost instinctively, although he knew it would violate the rules he had set himself of always keeping work and private life separated. He also knew that Dwalin would understand. He always did.

Frodo shook his head and reflexively closed his hands around the old phone, clasping it to his chest. It was clear that he wouldn't let it out of his sight for anything in the world. Thorin lifted his hands, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"No worries. It was just an idea." he told him. Frodo nodded, but his entire behaviour still thrummed with tension.

"I've got to go. School's starting soon." he finally said and a quick glance on his watch told Thorin that Frodo was right. The lad was already starting to gather up his figures and stuff them into the pockets of his school uniform. He hesitated before he slipped off the bench, however, turning to look at Thorin again.

"I'm gonna see you again, right?" he asked, his gaze indecipherable.

"Only if you want to." Thorin told him with another smile although something inside him didn't doubt that it would be so.

Frodo just nodded and left the bench he was sitting on. Thorin didn't move, but waited until he had slipped out of the chapel. He noticed that Frodo took the small figure of a saint with him that was on a little display at the entrance of the chapel and frowned. He wouldn't have taken the boy for someone who stole so easily. With a sigh he took out his notebook, opened it and began to write down his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Bilbo & Frodo goodness this time \o/

_"Thorin, you are ridiculous. Just ask him out already!" Dís is laughing as she digs into the dinner in front of her that Thorin has cooked for them both. It's time for what the two of them call their monthly sibling evening - an evening where Dís' partner Víli is watching their two children and Thorin usually cooks a lavish meal for both of them. They had started the tradition together with Frerin long before the accident that took their mother, grandfather and their brother's lives. From then on they have kept the evenings both as a way to remember them and catch up with each other. Thorin is sure that if Frerin were here he would have agreed with his sister and teased him mercilessly._

_"I can't." he insists. "What if I misheard? He hasn't said anything like that since then and I'd look rather stupid if he wasn't interested in men, wouldn't I?"_

_Dís shakes her head, still laughing._

_"You're incredible. You've been in that shop how many times now when he was there? Three? Four?"_

_"Five." Thorin confesses. He has to admit that he's always gone into the shop on his way home when he saw that Dwalin was there, filling in for his brother. Dís' laughter is so loud by now that she is shaking._

_"Five times. And he still isn't annoyed by you. Just ask him if he'd like to go for a drink after hours, I mean it doesn't even have to be a date, does it? Maybe you can find out more about him during that."_

_"Maybe." Thorin still isn't convinced. He's been burned before by guys who he thought might be interested in him and then turned out to be as straight as a bean pole._

_"Not 'maybe'. The next time he is in you go there and ask him if he'd like a drink in the next pub when he's done, simple as that. And if he looks at you weirdly, well, then you know he won't have been worth it in the first place."_

_"Yes yes." Thorin sighs. His sisters throws him another amused glance, but she doesn't press the issue any further, knowing well that it won't really sway Thorin in his opinion anyway. Thorin uses the opportunity to bring the subject back to her partner and own family instead. "So how are Víli and the children?"_

_The rest of the evening passes in a rather relaxed manner and the talk only returns to Dwalin when Thorin mentions him once or twice. The next day, however, he is surprised by his own courage when he sees Dwalin through the window of the shop and takes a deep breath as he steps inside. They talk about the usual things at first - the weather, how their work is going, how Balin is doing and what Thorin is looking for today. Only when Thorin pays does he push out the one question in Dwalin's direction that his sister had suggested._

_Dwalin looks surprised, but not unpleasantly so. After a moment he gives him a smile._

_"Yeah, sure, why not."_

_Thorin feels rather light on his way home and finds himself humming slightly under his breath._

_*_

Bilbo sighed. Another night of not enough sleep was lying behind him and he felt so tired that he could barely focus. But what had to be done had to be done - no use dawdling around as his mother had always told him. His life had taken such an unexpected turn more than four years ago on the day that he had received the call that Drogo and Primula had died and whether he was able to provide for their little son Frodo at least for a while, until a proper home was found for the lad. Ever since then a lot of things had happened that he never thought would happen - he had gone from content single man with a quiet life to what was basically a single dad now in the space of a few months. The role had at first been rather unfamiliar to him, especially when he noticed that Frodo wasn't quite like most other boys of his age.

First he had thought it was shock at his parents' death and that his life had been changing so rapidly. But no counsellors or therapists seemed to be able to help and although Bilbo was willing to give Frodo as much time as he needed to cope with his grief, he grew more and more concerned each day. There was nothing else he could do, however, than to give him all the warmth and love that he had and after a few months it had become clear to him that he didn't want to hand the lad over into anyone else's hands. He would take care of him.

It took Frodo a long time until he began to trust him. There were small signs at first - Frodo taking his hand when walking somewhere together, for example, or setting the table when he was up early instead of waking up his uncle to do so. A few months later he would start coming into Bilbo's room to sleep in his bed whenever he had been woken up by nightmares, shaking like a leaf and icy cold. Bilbo always tried to soothe him as well as he could although sometimes all he could do was to hold Frodo until he had stopped trembling and fallen back asleep again. It had never really stopped, even as he had grown older.

The previous night, however, he seemed to have been fine. Bilbo was running around the house, trying to do at least five things simultaneously, like getting the laundry out of the drier and folded before he had to go off to work himself, trying to clean the kitchen a little, making another doctor's appointment for the coming week, catching up with his emails and, of course making breakfast for Frodo and seeing to it that he was properly dressed in his school uniform.

When he entered the kitchen he saw that Frodo still wasn't there and sighed.

"Frodo, come on or you won't have enough time to eat your cereals before school!" It was strange that the lad was heading off to school so late this morning. Sometimes he went there rather early and sometimes he seemed to leave it until the last minute.

There was a quiet shout from the bathroom although Bilbo couldn't make out the words; he simply assumed they meant 'I'm coming'. He sighed and made sure he had everything Frodo needed - lunchbox with food, Frodo's school bag, his umbrella since it was raining outside...it looked like everything was in order. Only Frodo himself was missing. Bilbo was just about to come and look for him when the boy came running into the kitchen, slightly out of breath and shaking.

"Hey, you alright?" Bilbo asked him softly, ruffling his hair, a gesture that he knew Frodo found reassuring. Frodo didn't reply, just putting some cereal into his bowl and proceeding to pour milk over it. Bilbo sighed quietly. It happened a lot that Frodo was scared, sometimes seemingly out of the blue and he didn't want to tell him what it had been that had scared him so. He just hoped that, whatever it was, it was over for now. When Frodo seemed to have calmed down Bilbo walked back around the table, looking his nephew over to see if he had put on his uniform correctly. His gaze was held up when it encountered a stain on Frodo's tie.

"Did you use your old tie again?" Bilbo asked him and Frodo nodded. Bilbo sighed although he hoped he didn't sound accusing. Children weren't perfect after all but sometimes it was just hard to take that into consideration, especially when he himself was tired and stressed out, too.

"It has stains on it from yesterday. Give me that, I'll go get you a clean one."

Obediently Frodo stopped eating and took off the tie to hand it to his uncle. Bilbo rubbed the bridge of his nose and went out of the kitchen to fetch a clean tie, hoping they still had one. It didn't take him long to find one, thankfully, and he returned only to stop right in his steps in the doorway.

Every single drawer and door in the kitchen was open.

Frodo was still sitting at the table in the same position as before, shaking slightly again and looking terrified. Bilbo slowly came closer, his gaze darting around the room to see if there was an intruder in here who might have done Frodo harm.

"Was there anybody here, Frodo?" he asked carefully.

"No." Frodo's voice was thin and high. Bilbo came over and hugged him tightly until the boy's trembling stilled.

"Did you do this? Were you looking for something?" He knew the question made little sense - Frodo never would have had the time to open all the cupboards and drawers this quickly, let alone reach the ones high up. Bilbo had been gone for less than two minutes. Frodo just shook his head at his question, although he suddenly seemed to think of something.

"Do you have some maltesers?" he asked.

"Yeah, of course. They're right here." Bilbo walked over to one of the opened doors and pulled out a small packet, beginning to close the drawers and doors on his way there. He offered it to Frodo and the boy took it from his hands with a quick gesture that seemed almost ashamed. Bilbo frowned; Frodo always told him that he took the sweets to school to share them with his friend but Bilbo knew he was lying, even though he hadn't had the heart yet to confront Frodo about it.

There was silence for a moment as Frodo was eating his breakfast and Bilbo continued to tidy the kitchen. He turned around when he heard Frodo talking to him again.

"Are you angry with me?" Frodo's voice sounded very meek, as if he was afraid to hear the answer to the question. Bilbo looked at him, his heart heavy when he saw those large blue eyes that looked so frightened. He pulled out a chair and sat down next to Frodo.

"Frodo, listen." he began. Frodo turned to look at him and Bilbo wished for nothing more than to be able to make the haunted look on his face disappear. "Look at me. Do I look like I'm angry with you?"

Tentatively, the boy shook his head.

"Exactly. Unless you _wilfully_ do something bad, I will never be angry with you, alright? Sometimes I'm in a bad mood because things aren't always going as they should. And then I might get loud. Or seem distant, and I'm sorry for that. But it has _nothing_ to do with you. I'm glad for every single day I get to spend with you and I will never regret taking you in to live with me. So I hope you don't regret it either. Okay?"

"Okay." Frodo nodded and then, more quietly, added. "I don't regret coming here."

"That makes me glad to hear." Bilbo smiled at him and ruffled his hair, surprised when Frodo threw his arms around him to give him a hug.

"There now. Better?"

"Mhm." Frodo nodded again and sighed loudly, burying his face in Bilbo's shirt for a moment before turning around to eat the rest of his cereals. Bilbo made himself some toast and watched him as he nibbled on it - it was far too early for him to have proper breakfast. It was perhaps the thing he most longed for at times, to have days where he could simply sleep into the morning. His job as editor for a gardening journal had always made it possible for him to have rather flexible working hours, something that came in handy now with Frodo here as well. At least he earned enough money to be able to support them both although there wasn't plenty of it left at the end of the month, especially now that Frodo seemed to be having a growth spurt.

Just as Bilbo wanted to tell him that he had better be off now before he was too late for school, Frodo jumped up and grabbed his bag, hugging his uncle quickly once more and shouting a goodbye at him before he dashed out of the door.

A steaming mug of tea in his hands, Bilbo watched as he ran down the street that his little house was in. Frodo's colourful umbrella was quite the contrast to the gray outside. He could just hope that one day he could find out what exactly it was that was scaring his nephew so much.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this chapter, but it isn't exactly the /happiest/. 
> 
> tw for violence, a tiny bit of gore, suicide and mental instability

_Thorin gets more and more nervous the closer the evening comes. His mind is bubbling over with insecurities, the excitement from before warring with the sudden fear of everything that could go wrong. What if he has really misheard Dwalin or misinterpreted what he said on the phone to his brother? What if Dwalin has a partner already? What if he finds Thorin annoying? What if...Thorin shakes his head and forcibly stops himself from following this train of thought any further. They have always gotten along well whenever they have spoken with each other and Dwalin didn't seem to mind when Thorin asked him out for a drink. Worrying won't do him any good._

_And so he spends the rest of the afternoon burying himself in scientific journals to catch up on some papers he's been wanting to read for a while. He gets lost in them so deeply that he forgets the time and curses loudly when he looks on his watch - at this rate he'll definitely be late even if he leaves right away. Not exactly a great impression at the first date, if it's in fact a date that's going to happen. He runs around the house, trying to tame his hair and get changed into some clothes that look reasonably nice but not overly posh._

_Thorin debates briefly whether he should run to the pub and completely ruin his appearance or walk and let the delay become even longer, especially since he has never asked Dwalin for his number and thus can't tell him he'll be late. Not that Dwalin would be able to pick up the phone in the shop or at home anyway. He's likely on the way already. Thorin decides to just walk as fast as he can and hopes Dwalin hasn't gotten annoyed and left the pub yet._

_In the end he's only fifteen minutes late. He puts on his most apologetic smile before he opens the door and enters. Dwalin is sitting at a table in a corner not far from the door where it's a little more quiet but he's still easily visible. Thorin strides over to him, hoping he's looking as guilty as he's feeling._

_"I'm sorry for being so late. I got caught up in reading some papers for work and-" he starts to tell him but Dwalin waves his words aside._

_"Don't worry, it's no problem." Dwalin's smile is wide and honest and Thorin immediately feels a lot more at ease, even when Dwalin gets up from the table the moment Thorin sits down. "Want a drink?"_

_"It should be me who's paying for both of us, seeing that I was late..." Thorin starts, but Dwalin just chuckles._

_"You can pay for the next round if you want, then we're even." he suggests and Thorin just nods gratefully, telling him what he'd like to drink. He still feels a little bit out of breath and needs a few minutes to wind down. He watches as Dwalin goes up to the bar and orders Thorin's favourite ale. It feels so strange and yet incredibly right - it's been a while since he's been out with someone who was_ not _his family and although he hasn't really missed it most of the time he still enjoys the change from normality, particularly when the company is so pleasant._

_*_

Thorin came home late in the evening the day when he had met Frodo in the morning. He unlocked the door and stepped into the house, being greeted by darkness. He wondered where their cat Nat was - usually she came to greet him more often than not the moment he stepped through the door.

"Dwalin?" he called out. "I'm sorry that I'm so late. There's a new case at work and-"

There was no reply. Thorin frowned; he knew it was late, but normally not late enough for Dwalin to be in bed already. They'd argued about Thorin's work hours before and he knew Dwalin hated it when he wasn't home for dinner. Still, he usually grudgingly relented once Thorin told him about everything that had happened at work that day and appeased him with the promise of a free weekend just for the two of them in the near future. Thorin shed his coat and walked into the house, not bothering to switch on the lights since he knew where he was going. There were faint sounds coming from the kitchen and he walked towards it, only to see Dwalin finishing up what looked like a batch of crepes. Thorin would recognise the strong smell of strawberry jam mixed with the faint aroma of whiskey anywhere - it was one of Balin's old recipes and had always been Dwalin's favourite food.

For a moment he simply stood there and watched his partner as Dwalin piled the crepes on a plate, put some more strawberry syrup on top and grabbed a fork and knife to carry them into his little working room. He was wondering why Dwalin wasn't noticing him but then he saw that his husband was wearing earphones, probably listening to some of his favourite music. Dwalin left the kitchen through the other door, not looking Thorin's way and Thorin sighed. Maybe it would be good if he let the matter of their relationship rest for the night and let Dwalin enjoy his comforts until his anger was gone. He could always talk to him later.

For now he sat down on the couch, the familiarity of home seeping into his bones. He had wanted to talk with Dwalin about Frodo, but for now he left it at going through his notes one more time, wondering how to continue. That there was something odd about the boy was more than obvious - he seemed to be mortally afraid of something and Thorin would have to find out what it was that scared him so if he wanted to get anywhere. Gaining Frodo's trust was the most important thing for now.

Thorin stretched out on the sofa with a sigh, his thoughts wandering back to Dwalin. Things had changed between them since that one night three months ago. Everything had changed. He closed his eyes and allowed the memory to consume him once more.

They'd been out to Oxford the day before where he received the honorary doctorate in a ceremony that Dwalin would probably keep teasing him about for a long time to come. He had described it as 'overly pompous and hopelessly antiquated' but Thorin had been able to see the glint of pride in his eyes nonetheless. There were moments when he felt guilty for the success he enjoyed in his profession and the money it brought them. He kept wondering whether it made Dwalin feel bad although he always did his best so that Dwalin would never feel inferior. Dwalin himself had never complained or said anything, on the contrary - he always seemed to be the one proudest of Thorin, supporting him in everything that he was doing. Nonetheless, Thorin still felt guilt over the fact he was earning so much more than Dwalin, especially when Dwalin had one day jokingly referred to himself as Thorin's 'trophy wife', a jest that had stung deeply although it obviously hadn't been meant seriously and Dwalin had told him as much afterwards.

They had participated in a big formal dinner that evening but had chosen to return home the day after. Both Dwalin and Thorin had taken that day off work, spending most of it lazily in bed and with bringing their household into order afterwards. In the evening they were sprawling on the sofa, a bottle of their best whiskey on the table in front of them and neither of them entirely sober anymore.

"There were a lot of people at the dinner last night eyeing you rather jealously." Thorin laughed. "Especially that young postgrad next to you."

Dwalin snorted, his arm draped lazily across Thorin's shoulders and the other patting the cat on his lap. "He looked mightily disappointed when he saw our wedding ring and it clicked with him that you were my husband."

Thorin chuckled. "Not my fault I could by some magic convince such an incredibly good-looking, funny man to marry me."

Dwalin laughed in reply, pressing a quick kiss onto Thorin's temple.

"It had nothing to do with magic." he grinned. "Although wait, I'm not sure - I did feel like you'd bewitched me at some point. Remember our first date?"

"Where I was fifteen minutes late and then accidentally spilled half my drink over my stuff and myself? Yeah, I remember that."

"No, I mean the one where I looked at you and you smiled and suddenly I thought 'I might have a mighty crush on this man.'" Dwalin replied and Thorin punched him gently in the stomach.

"You're getting old and sappy."

"Look who's talking. I saw at least five more grey hairs on your head this morning." Dwalin shot back and made a show of carding through Thorin's hair, counting out every grey one he found. Thorin rolled his eyes but didn't move away - Dwalin's fingers on his scalp felt wonderful and he loved little more than his partner massaging his head. He groaned slightly in satisfaction when Dwalin purposely moved lower and replaced his hand with his mouth once he arrived at Thorin's neck.

"So what are you thinking of doing now?" Dwalin finally asked between two soft kisses to Thorin's skin.

"Continue working like before." Thorin answered honestly and Dwalin raised an eyebrow.

"No thoughts of retiring yet?"

Thorin laughed. "Dwalin, I've just turned fifty! And besides, I do this work mostly because I want to help people, not because of the honours it might bring me."

"So you don't want to be spending more time with me instead?" Dwalin asked cheekily, but Thorin could hear the serious undertone in his voice. He sighed quietly and sat up a little straighter.

"Of course I want to." he replied softly, his hand snaking up Dwalin's back and pulling him close for a kiss. "I suppose I could try and work a little less."

"But then you wouldn't be you anymore." Dwalin smiled. "I know how much fulfilment you find in your work. You either do things with your whole heart or not at all. It's one of the reasons why I love you. I guess I'll just have to be fine with you putting me second from time to time..."

"You were never-" Thorin began to reply, but a loud crash from upstairs interrupted his words, making them both jump with surprise.

"What was that?" Dwalin frowned, suddenly sober again.

"I don't know. Did you leave a window open?" Thorin replied, fear suddenly coiling in his stomach. Dwalin just shook his head.

"I'll go upstairs and look." Thorin suggested. He was of half a mind to take a kitchen knife with him but somehow the thought seemed a little overdramatic. Maybe it was just the wind that had blown a branch into their window from the large tree next to their house or a picture that had come down from the wall after all. Nat meowed and suddenly seemed alert as well, withdrawing from Dwalin and jumping on their TV stand.

"I'll come with you." Dwalin said very quietly. Thorin threw him a grateful glance. They both weren't exactly of a small built, but Dwalin's warmth in his back still helped a lot to reassure him. Thorin tried to keep his hands from trembling when he opened the door to their bedroom upstairs and switched on the light first thing.

The room was empty.

However, the window next to Dwalin's side of the bed had clearly been smashed from the outside, shards of glass on the floor. Thorin stepped closer to see whether it had maybe been an accident or simple chance when he heard a sound coming from his right where the upstairs bathroom was. He and Dwalin exchanged another glance. Dwalin nodded and randomly grabbed a small statue they were keeping as a decoration on a table. A poor weapon at best, but better than nothing.

"Hello?" Thorin asked. "We know you're in there. If you come out slowly now and leave we promise we won't press any charges. We don't want anybody to get hurt."

There was no reply, but yet another noise from inside. It sounded suspiciously like someone was sniffling.

Thorin's heart was in his throat when he stepped closer to the door. He knew they should have called the police first thing, but the bathroom door could not be locked from outside and they'd both left their phones downstairs. He'd rather not go back down and leave Dwalin alone with whoever was in there or, even worse, be surprised whilst they were downstairs. He tried to make his voice sound as calm as possible. Maybe it was just a helpless homeless kid or an addict in search for a dry place to spend the night.

"I'm going to open the door now." he said loudly, Dwalin standing right behind him. Taking a deep breath he slowly turned the knob and pushed open the door. At first he thought he had been right - the door swung open to reveal a young man, clothes in tatters and hair that had to have gone unwashed for quite a while.

Thorin waved at Dwalin to lower his hands and appear less threatening. The youth looked more confused than anything else at the moment.

"Are you alright?" Thorin asked him softly, in the same gentle tone he often used during his session with the more emotionally unstable children. The young man began shaking visibly, his eyes going wide.

"If I'm - y-you ask if I'm - n-no I'm NOT alright!" he shouted. The situation changed in less than a second.

Suddenly there was a gun in the young man's hands pointed at Thorin and a wild look in his eyes that made shivers run down Thorin's back.

"Thorin!" That was Dwalin's voice calling out next to him but Thorin made a move to try and hold his husband back. There was no telling what the intruder would do if Dwalin moved all of a sudden.

"It's your fault. It was all your fault." The young man's hands were shaking and he looked like he was about to cry. "You didn't believe me. I was so scared. And you listened and smiled but you didn't _believe_ me."

His words touched on something in Thorin's brain, a faint familiarity and after a moment he gasped.

" _Azog_?" He remembered him. A young boy who had been violent, had said he was seeing things, showed inexplicable behaviour and sudden mood switches. It was the only case he'd had to give up on, that he just hadn't been able to treat. The last he had heard was that Azog had been permanently institutionalised after going on a violent rampage.

"So you remember." Azog was talking himself into a rage, that much was clear. Thorin could see Dwalin moving very slowly towards him from the corner of his eyes, trying to get close enough to wrestle the gun out of Azog's hands. "But it's too late now, it's all too late, nobody can help me now, they are here and they just won't _go_ and it's _all your fault_..."

"Azog, put down the gun. I'll help you. And I promise I'll believe you this time. Just put down the gun."

Thorin didn't know how he managed to make his voice sound so calm and composed when he was feeling panic spreading through his insides.

Everything happened at once. Azog shouted something at the same moment that Dwalin decided to make a leap for it and Thorin took a step forwards. A shot sounded through the air and Thorin felt a sharp pain rip through him. The world was slowing down so he saw in minute detail how Azog put the gun into his own mouth and pulled the trigger, his blood and pieces of brain splattering over Dwalin's face.

"THORIN!"

The rest of the night was nothing more than shadows in Thorin's memory. Azog had pulled the trigger shortly before Dwalin had reached him and the bullet had hit him in the chest; the only thing he could really remember before the images in his mind went hazy where Dwalin's hands on him and the frantic calling of his voice.

He had survived, had been lucky that the bullet hadn't hit anything important. But things had been different since then. Dwalin believed it had been him that triggered the shot that had almost killed Thorin; Thorin himself became obsessed with his work so that such a failure would never happen to him again. They seemed to have slowly drifted apart, barely talking to each other for days on end. Thorin didn't remember much of the months that had followed after the incident, but he did remember the silence, the strangeness that was suddenly between them like an unbridgeable gap. And yet there was love still there, too, when he could hear Dwalin murmur his name at night or when he was cooking Thorin's favourite meal.

Thorin's hands traced the patterns on the couch and sighed. He just hoped he could right what was wrong between them. Maybe solving Frodo's case would help both him and them together as a couple to find their peace again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 'mind reading' scene is almost straight out of the movie even though I embellished/changed it a little bit. But I still think it just absolutely brilliant, what a fantastic way to get some exposition into a movie where it's a lot harder than on page with writing.

_"You did_ what _?" Thorin can hear his sister guffawing at the other end of the phone. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, already regretting the decision to call her._

_"I spilled half of my drink over myself." he repeats through clenched teeth._

_"One might think you had reverted back to a bumbling teenager again." Dís' voice is still trembling with suppressed laughter and Thorin cannot find a single trace of sympathy in it._

_"That's not helping, Dís." he replies sourly. "I'm a hard-working professional adult in my mid-thirties and yet I somehow managed to make an utter_ fool _out of myself in front of one of the most attractive men I have met in a while."_

_Dís chuckles._

_"You two are adults, Thorin, as you just said yourself. I'm sure Dwalin can see beyond that. So what else did you talk about? I'm sure you didn't spend all that time sitting there and groaning about your own inability to have a drink without pouring it all over yourself."_

_Thorin still isn't convinced, but he has to admit that Dwalin didn't really seem to have minded the incident, never making fun of him or seeming to think anything less of Thorin because of it._

_"We were there for almost two hours." he has to admit. "I don't know, we just...seemed to keep talking. About everything, really."_

_"So it was a date after all?" Dís enquires. Thorin can almost see her grin._

_"I don't know!" he admits honestly._

_"How on earth can you_ not know _?!"_

 _"Well, we didn't explicitly_ talk _about it!" Thorin defends himself although he knows he is sounding slightly stupid. "We just sort of sat down and chatted. It was nice. Apart from the aforementioned spilling of my drink and me being late, of course."_

_"Incredible." Dís is shaking her head on the other end of the line, of that Thorin is certain. "Have you at least decided to meet again at some point? Or did you 'not explicitly talk about' that either?"_

_"Stop making fun of me." Thorin tells his sister, although he is only half serious. "Dwalin invited me to a New Year's Party in three weeks. He said he's celebrating with a few friends, but I'd be more than welcome."_

_"And?"_

_"And what?"_

_"And have you said Yes?!"_

_"I told him I wasn't sure."_

_"Thorin..." Dís groans. "Please tell me you'll go to the shop tomorrow and tell him that you'll come. PLEASE."_

_"I'm not sure I'll really fit in there. And maybe Dwalin just invited me because he wanted to be polite-" Thorin voices his fears._

_"Good lord, Thorin. You wouldn't even have_ known _about the party without him telling you! You're being ridiculous again and you know it. Just say yes. You can always leave if you don't like it."_

_"Maybe." Thorin replies doubtfully._

_"Not 'maybe', but 'yes dearest sister, thank you for spelling it out for me and thus saving my love life.'" Her tone softened slightly. "Come on, Thorin, just try it. You said it yourself that you enjoy being with him. I know you're not a big fan of parties, but maybe this time it'll be worth it."_

_Thorin grimaces. The conversation reminds him a lot of the one they'd had a few days ago when Dís had pushed him to finally ask Dwalin out. He knows she's right - but in a way he always seems to require that little extra push out of the door which is probably why he has called her in the first place today._

_"Fine." he tells her. "I'll tell him tomorrow."_

_*_

Thorin was waiting for Frodo when the boy came home from school that day. Bilbo Baggins was standing in the kitchen and tending to his self-made bread as he was waiting for his nephew's return and looking slightly anxious. Thorin watched him from the corner of his eyes, noting the grey in his hair and the slight drooping in the set of his shoulder that indicated more than anything else how tired he had to be.

His entire demeanour, however, seemed to change when the key turned in the door and Frodo came back in. A smile appeared on Bilbo's face and he dusted off his hands to give his nephew a tight hug. At that moment Thorin dropped some of his notions that the scratches he had seen might have been inflicted by Bilbo; he loved his nephew more than anything, that much was clear. His gentleness reminded Thorin a great deal of both Dís and her partner and the way they were treating Fíli and Kíli - no matter whether they were angry with them, annoyed or happy, there was always an undercurrent of love in everything they did.

"How was your day at school?" Bilbo asked his nephew gently. Frodo shrugged in reply, not looking his uncle into the eyes.

"Alright." he finally mumbled when it seemed like Bilbo was expecting a better answer. Thorin watched as Bilbo coaxed a different story than what must have really happened out of him, having them both make up their ideal days and he smiled a little, especially when Bilbo promised to make Frodo his favourite pancakes for dinner.

He thought of the Latin words he had heard Frodo say in the chapel previously and which he had translated last night. _De profundis clamo ad te domine_ \- Out of the depths, I cry to you, O Lord. He had googled the result and found that it was the beginning of a psalm. Thorin wondered how and why Frodo had known of it - did he know the translation or had he simply picked up the words somewhere? He wondered how Frodo would react if he asked him about it.

Bilbo finally disappeared into the kitchen to make the promised pancakes and Thorin was left alone with Frodo. He waved at the boy to come closer and sit down next to him but Frodo remained where he was, a glint of mistrust still in his eyes. Thorin sighed. Time to use the old trick again.

"You don't really feel like talking today, do you?" he asked Frodo softly.

The boy shook his head, but didn't move which Thorin counted as a success already.

"Alright, that's fine." He gave Frodo a reassuring smile. "How would you like it if we played a game? I'm going to try and read your mind. If I'm right you take a step towards that chair opposite me. If I'm wrong you take a step towards the kitchen. If you reach the chair you sit down and maybe we'll play another game. If you reach the kitchen, I'll leave for today. You can stop anytime you want to. Is that alright with you?"

Frodo looked at him for a moment before he nodded hesitantly. Thorin sighed dramatically before he began humming slightly, closing his eyes and putting his hands together in front of him. He had practised the act with Dwalin several times until his partner had fallen over wheezing and laughing although he'd had to admit that it would probably work very well to impress younger children. Thorin opened his eyes again.

"When your mum and dad died, you thought it was your fault. You thought that if you had been with them, they'd have been more careful and turned back much sooner."

Frodo closed his eyes for a brief moment before he took a step towards Thorin. Thorin sighed, hoping that Bilbo had been able to talk to his nephew about his guilt. It would certainly need several more sessions to unravel everything that was going on inside Frodo.

"You've seen people like me before. But you were scared of them and they couldn't help you."

Frodo took another step forward.

"You were scared of your uncle at first, too. Because you have things you don't want to tell him, things that you want to keep secret."

Yet another step into Thorin's direction. _Careful now_ , Thorin thought.

"You are scared of telling me your secret as well because you think I won't believe you." Frodo took another step forward. One more and he would be at the chair. For a moment the memories came up inside Thorin again. _You didn't believe me_. The despair in Azog's voice. Blood on Dwalin's face. The crashing pain in his chest.

Thorin swallowed, forcing his hands to relax and stop trembling. Suddenly he was longing for Dwalin's warm embrace. Frodo kept watching him intensely and Thorin wished he could take a break. But he had to go on. This wasn't about him and his own trauma, it was about Frodo.

"This secret...it has something to do with your parents?"

Frodo hesitated, then took a half step back. A half-truth then, or so Thorin guessed.

"Okay. Then...I'm guessing you are fairly good at school, even though you don't like going there, do you? You never really get into trouble."

This time Frodo took a large step back and Thorin sighed heavily, waiting for him to speak, but Frodo remained quiet.

"So you did get into trouble once."

Frodo nodded, but remained where he was.

"Would you like to tell me?"

Silence, again, until Frodo decided to reply.

"That's not mind reading. That was just a question."

"I know." Thorin smiled, spreading his hands. "I guess I lost. I don't know what you are thinking right now. You can leave now if you'd like to."

Frodo didn't move and Thorin hoped he had won his trust enough so that he might stay. Finally Frodo took a deep breath and continued to speak.

"We were drawing. I drew three people with nooses around their necks, hanging from the entrance of the school and they didn't like it. They called uncle Bilbo. And the councillor. Everyone got upset. So now I just draw happy things. Rainbows. Cats. Smiling people."

"Why did you draw it? Did you see it on TV somewhere? Or the internet?" Frodo shook his head at Thorin's question but didn't reply to it. Thorin frowned, remembering how Frodo had apparently stood out before for using rather strong language for someone his age at times. It didn't quite make sense to him yet.

"Frodo, the first batch of pancakes is done!" Bilbo called from the kitchen that moment. "Come over here and eat them before they get cold."

Frodo kept staring at Thorin for a while longer.

"You're really nice." he told him finally and Thorin smiled reflexively at the comment. Good, he seemed to be getting somewhere at least.

"But you can't help me." Frodo then added, a sadness in his eyes that strung a chord inside Thorin's chest. He wished he could have given the boy a hug and told him that everything would go well, that he would help him like he hadn't been able to do with Azog. Azog, who had shown the same symptoms and lived under similar circumstances, son of a single mother. Azog, who had gone mad until-

His mind seemed to be hell-bent on going back to that one day and Thorin shook his head. Looking up he saw that Frodo had already made his way into the kitchen to join his uncle. Thorin decided to leave without disturbing them, especially when he heard laughter coming from the kitchen.

When he came home the place was cold and empty, not even the cat was in sight. He frowned; where was Dwalin? It was unusual for him to be out alone, especially when it was about dinner time. He stepped into the living room, taking a deep breath when he saw the half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey and the half-smoked cigarettes on the table. Dwalin had stopped smoking over a decade ago, shortly after they had gotten together. He walked closer until he could see that there was a crumpled bill next to the bottle. His breath hitched when he read the words of the pub they were from.

The Crooked Man.

The same pub that they always went to together after a long week worth of work. The one that was almost as familiar to them as their own home by now, run by their old friend Bombur. Why would Dwalin go there without him? It wasn't their anniversary; they had first gone out for a drink together in early December and the day they had decided to get married had been in summer. He sat down on the sofa and buried his head in his hands. What was going on?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And to today in: 'how do I make it clear that a character is demisexual without actually using the word since he probably doesn't even know it': this chapter.

_Thorin sighs. Going to Dwalin's party has, after all, been a bad idea. He is incredibly bored as he always gets on parties when most people are too drunk to have a normal conversation and most of the talks that do happen resolve around some kind of issue or another that he has no connection with. To make it worse Dwalin's friends actually seem to be genuinely_ nice _, they just aren't on the same wavelength as him and so there is little to talk about._

_"You enjoying yourself?" Dwalin plops down on the sofa next to him, a beer can in hand, and Thorin winces. Should he tell the truth or be nice? He doesn't want to insult Dwalin - he's the only reason Thorin hasn't left yet and it's close to midnight now anyway._

_"Yeah." he answers and hopes the lie isn't too obvious. But of course Dwalin seems to see right through him._

_"It's boring, isn't it."_

_Thorin doesn't want to answer him so he takes another sip of his beer to buy some time. Dwalin laughs._

_"You don't have to pretend for me, it's fine. I suppose it is one of the lamer parties I've been to."_

_"I'm glad it's not just me then." Thorin dares to tell him and Dwalin grins._

_"The one reason I couldn't say no to the invitation is because I've been friends will all these people here basically forever. We've been doing...campaigns and stuff together since I was a teen. Gay pride, protests, you know, things like that."_

_He watches Thorin as if he wants to test him with his last words, having deliberately led the conversation to that topic. Thorin's heart skips a beat and he tries to force down the feeling of dryness in his throat._

_"So you are gay then?" he hopes the question isn't too straightforward. Dwalin laughs again._

_"No." There is a mischievous glint in his eyes when he adds: "I'm bi."_

_Thorin feels the absurd urge to either slap or try and kiss him, but of course he does neither of the two. Dwalin is far too observant for the amount of alcohol he's had and he is quick to turn the question around._

_"And you?" he asks him. Thorin swallows and looks down._

_"Gay." he tells his glass, feeling rather ridiculous and wondering whether there is actually a word for 'not looking for sexual relations unless I am romantically interested but only in men'. But a lifetime of caution and keeping his private life in the shadows from anyone but parts of his family has left its traces._

_"Well, that's that sorted then." Dwalin smiles and Thorin's heart skips another beat. He feels ridiculously like a teenager again._

_"Is it?" he replies, trying to, for once, push aside all his fear and inhibitions as he looks up into Dwalin's eyes and finds his breath taken away by the swirling gray._

_"Mhm." Dwalin replies, leaning closer, obviously just as hypnotised by Thorin as he is by him. Thorin smiles and then, following a sudden impulse, leans forward as well. Some part of him expects Dwalin to move back any moment and he is ready to do so, too, but the other part is shouting that this is right, this is exactly what he wants and so he doesn't hesitate until their lips meet._

_It is, by nature of a first kiss, neither the most beautiful nor the longest of kisses they will share, but perhaps still the most magical. It tastes of beer and sweat and a faint whiff of cheap cigarette smoke with their own taste hidden beneath that they are only just learning. Thorin smiles and he feels Dwalin mirror the gesture before Thorin pulls him closer, suddenly a lot bolder._

_They don't even hear the fireworks outside when the clock strikes midnight, greeting the new millennium._

*

Bilbo was cleaning their little house. It was by no means a large place, but he would have never been able to afford it if he hadn't inherited it from his parents. This way he was glad that he had been able to give Frodo a home that wasn't too small and where the boy could have his very own room that he could retreat to whenever he wished to do so.

Now that the lad was in school he finally had the time to do some cleaning. One thing he had quickly learned when he took Frodo in was that kids meant one thing above all - messiness. No matter how many times he told Frodo to leave his shoes here and his clothes there and to clean up after himself, his things would soon be distributed all over the house again. Bilbo didn't really mind though; it seemed like one of the few things about Frodo that told him unerringly that, no matter how strangely he might behave, his nephew was still a little boy.

He went through his own room and the other rooms of the house first before he turned to Frodo's, sighing when he opened the door and saw the state of it. The floor was covered in toys, clothes and numerous miscellaneous items - it was almost like magic how quickly these appeared. It didn't matter whether he would clean every single day or every few months, the state of the room would probably be the same.

Taking care only to pick up Frodo's clothes and some of the toys he knew where to put and not any of his personal items he slowly began bringing order into the chaos. Bilbo smiled when his gaze fell on the collection of little rocks on Frodo's desk. He still remembered them - they had been firmly enclosed between Frodo's fingers when he had first met the lad, a keepsake from his old home. Bilbo hadn't told him to put them away or give them out of his hands and Frodo had held onto them for the rest of the day. He had never let them out of sight for the next few years until they had found a home on his desk together with some more rocks and seashells they had collected at the beach together two years ago.

Bilbo still remembered the time when Frodo had given him his first gift - a pebble he had found outside and painted in a light shade of blue. Frodo had told him it was a good luck charm for him and Bilbo had been earnestly touched and thankful for the gesture, actually putting the pebble on his nightstand beside his bed where it was still sitting, even now.

As he was working, Bilbo accidentally brushed with his leg against a few cartons that were stacked on a small chair at the edge of Frodo's room. Before he could turn around quickly enough to catch them, they clattered to the floor, their lids coming off and contents spilling on the ground. Bilbo cursed and began to pick up everything and put it back where it belonged. Most of it were random items, small keepsakes, birthday carts and the like, things that Frodo had kept for sentimentality and which probably had little value for anyone else. Some of them made Bilbo smile - for example the little keychain in the shape of a wolf that he had given to Frodo on the day he had started his first Reception year in school. He still remembered that day vividly, because it had been special for both of them.

They had been rather nervous - Frodo would turn five years old very soon and it hadn't been long since he had begun living with Bilbo yet, only the better of half a year. The adoption papers were still being finalised and so everything seemed to be hanging in limbo at the moment. It had been a difficult time for both of them - Frodo was still waking up crying and shouting for his parents almost every night and Bilbo could always do little to comfort him. They were still getting to know each other and often enough mistakes were being made on both sides. However, Bilbo had firmly promised himself that he would do everything he could to make Frodo's first day at school a memorable and good one.

He had prepared pancakes with blueberry and chocolate, the boy's favourite breakfast, and taken some time to decorate the kitchen, packing everything Frodo would need on his first day of school into little presents. Frodo's eyes were shining when he entered the kitchen and a small smile crept on his face the moment he saw the table.

"Is it your birthday today, uncle Bilbo?" he asked shyly and sadness shot through Bilbo's heart.

"No, my lad, my birthday is on the same day as yours." he smiled at him. "This is all for you. Today is a special day and I want you to enjoy it."

Frodo's eyes grew as big as saucers at Bilbo's remark.

"For me? Everything? Really?" He still didn't quite seem able to believe it.

"Of course. Come on, open them."

Frodo still hesitated at first, but when he unpacked the first little package and Bilbo only encouraged him in doing so he soon became a lot bolder, delighting in each new thing he found and could put into his newly bought school bag. The sound of his laughter in the kitchen seemed to fill everything with life and it did Bilbo's heart good to hear it. He had gotten to the package with the little wolf keychain last of all.

"This is a wolf." Bilbo explained to him. "It'll help protect you and give you good luck if you carry it with you."

He wasn't particularly superstitious, but he knew how much the effect of _thinking_ something would bring good luck could actually bolster the spirit. Frodo immediately grabbed the little wolf and held it close to his chest.

"Does it have a name?" he asked Bilbo. Bilbo smiled.

"Not yet. Would like to give him one?"

Frodo nodded and then thought for a moment whilst Bilbo urged him to eat some pancakes before they went cold.

"Fenrir." he said finally.

"Like the Norse wolf?" Bilbo asked him. When Frodo had arrived he had noticed that he didn't actually have any children's books at home so he had decided to read him some tales from all the books about legends from different parts of the world that he had. The Edda had been one of the first and Frodo had been especially fascinated by the tales surrounding Fenrir and Loki.

"Yes. Can you help me put it on my bag?" Frodo held up the world towards Bilbo.

"Of course." Bilbo knelt down to put the wolf on Frodo's school bag.

"And it will really protect me?" Frodo asked him, his voice tinted by a strange urgency.

"Yes. But you have to look out for yourself, too, especially on the road. I can't stop cars, for example." Bilbo assured him. Frodo seemed to think about that for a moment.

"Alright." he replied then and turned back to his breakfast.

Bilbo smiled to himself. That day Frodo had seemed truly happy for perhaps the first time since he had come to live with Bilbo. He was glad that Fenrir had survived until now, even if it was in a box and not on Frodo's bag anymore. With a sigh he continued putting the boxes back into order, finally arriving at the last one that had been in the bottom of the pile. It had contained mostly papers that looked like they had Frodo's handwriting on it. Bilbo dutifully tried not to read any of the writing - it felt like intruding into the boy's privacy. However, his eyes couldn't help but be caught by the irregularities on the papers - first the writing seemed to look completely normal, then it suddenly changed, the letters become larger and much harsher. Bilbo gasped when he picked up a few of the words in the different script - _KILL_ it said, and _HELP ME_ , and _MAKE THEM BLEED_. Where on earth could Frodo have picked up such things? He resolved to try and control even more strictly what pages the lad could see on the internet and what he was watching on TV.

Still, he put the papers back into the box so as not to alert Frodo that he had seen them. As he did so, something slid out between them and fell to the ground. Bilbo frowned when he picked it up, rubbing his fingers over the silver flower pendant. It had been his mother's and he always kept it in the nightstand in his own bedroom, the pendant being one of the few keepsakes he still had of hers. Had Frodo stolen it? It would be very much unlike him, but...

With another frown he resolved to ask his nephew once he came home from school that day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're all having a nice, relaxed weekend \o/. Thank you for every comment and message so far. I hope you're still interested in this baby and that it actually makes sense for those who don't know the movie xD.

_It has been four weeks since the New Year's party. A lot has changed and yet, so surprisingly little, too. Being in a relationship again feels rather strange - it has been years for Thorin without one and he has to adapt to having someone not only being interested in him but also being part of his day-to-day life again. Dwalin is a marvel, in every way - he is patient with Thorin when he says he needs time to think or to be alone, but also makes it clear that he has his own life and friends which he isn't willing to give up on either. They both value their freedom as much as being together and it suits them rather well._

_So far they have met mostly at the pub or at Dwalin's place, but this time it's the first evening that Thorin has invited him to come over to his own flat. It's a rather large place for a single person and he is acutely aware of his social class as he spends most of the Saturday tidying it and trying in vain to sort out all the papers on his desk. He just hopes that Dwalin doesn't think him just another stupid upper class twat when he comes and sees everything._

_He has spent the rest of the day cooking a rather elaborate meal in return for Dwalin cooking dinner for him the last time he was at his place. It has been a delight to them to discover that they were both rather fond of cooking, although Dwalin is more keen on baking and frying (Thorin finds his pastries the best he's ever tasted) whereas Thorin prefers making elaborately cooked meals. Dwalin certainly looks impressed when he enters, but not in a negative way._

_"How much time did you spent cleaning today?" he laughs when he enters and Thorin grins, feigning an elbow to his ribs._

_"So long that I almost forgot to make dinner, of course." he shoots back and promptly runs into the kitchen when the alarm tells him that the last bit of their meal can come out of the oven now. Dwalin delights in the food Thorin has made and together they manage to demolish all of it. They retreat to the more comfortable sofa afterwards and soon they are kissing again - for whatever reason, when they are alone with each other, they can never stop touching for long. This time, however, they go further than ever before and contrary to what he himself expected, it is Thorin who initiates it first by slowly starting to undo the buttons of Dwalin's shirt one by one after a questioning glance that shows him Dwalin is fine with it. Dwalin grabs hold of Thorin's wrist before it can reach below his stomach where there's a visible bulge beneath his pants already._

_"You sure?" he asks Thorin, his voice deep and husky. Thorin smiles and licks his lips, enjoying how the movement makes Dwalin squirm._

_"I am. If you are, too?"_

_"Yes." And with that, Dwalin pulls him close again, both unleashing the hunger that has been visibly pent up inside them._

_*_

Thorin took a look around the room whilst he was waiting for Frodo to come in. The school the lad went to was an old one even though there had clearly been visible efforts to modernise the building in order to make it adhere to modern safety and teaching standards. But in many ways, the age of the building still showed, from the old front of the building to the rooms with their wooden floors, high ceilings and narrow windows. It was a beautiful old school and there was the sound of faint laughter in the air as most pupils went into their well-deserved lunch break.

Thorin was waiting in what had probably once been the director's room, with numerous books on the shelves and a large desk in the middle with several chairs in front of it. Now it seemed seldomly used, some dust having accumulated on the desk already and the chairs creaking slightly with every movement. He looked up when Frodo finally entered.

Frodo seemed like his entire being was under tension, strumming like the string of a guitar that had been plucked too hard. He had a haunted and slightly guilty look on his face, but came to the table nonetheless where he sat down opposite Thorin, although he didn't say anything at first.

"I'm glad you came." Thorin told him earnestly. He had half feared that Frodo would simply run away, maybe hide in the chapel again where he had met him the first time.

Frodo looked up for a moment, but away again as soon as their gazes met.

"Wanna see a special magic trick?" Thorin asked him and at his words, Frodo seemed surprised, obviously having expected Thorin to immediately start talking about what had happened at school that day. Thorin smiled at him and pulled out an old penny that he had painted silver and always kept in his pockets for exactly such a case. Frodo kept looking at Thorin's hands, not able to hide the interest sparking in his eyes.

"Now, the coin is in my right hand, see?" He opened his right and Frodo nodded. "And now..." Thorin closed both hands into fists and bumped them together. "It has magically transferred into my left hand!" He opened his left and showed Frodo the second coin he'd hidden in there that looked exactly like the first. He performed the same motion as before. "And now it's back in my right!" he exclaimed, showing Frodo the original coin in his right hand. Frodo frowned.

"You just have two coins." he told him, not sounding very impressed. "That's not magic."

Thorin grinned.

"Ah, but you believed it for a moment, didn't you?"

Frodo only shrugged in reply.

"Maybe?"

It didn't truly matter to Thorin - of course the magic trick was easy to see through, that was the entire point. It made the children feel like they knew something, made them see that could know more than maybe an adult thought they could know. And it provided them with a welcome distraction from whatever had happened. The strategy seemed to have worked with Frodo as well, for he seemed a lot more at ease now, not like he would run away or begin shouting every moment.

"Would you like to tell me what happened today?" Thorin asked softly. Frodo immediately looked down at his hands again.

"I promise I won't judge you." Thorin told him. "Did you know that in primary school I once got so annoyed I threw my pencil case through the room and hit a class mate with it? My teacher was very angry."

That elicited a small grin from Frodo at least.

"I got annoyed today too." he admitted. "Nobody wanted to believe me. Mr. Sackville asked if we knew what was here before the school was founded and the building was refurbished. I told him that they used to execute people here and he got angry because I said that and even angrier when I refused to admit I was wrong. I know I was right, he just didn't want to believe me! He-"

Frodo suddenly stopped talking as if he was suddenly aware of how loud his voice had become. He almost seemed to shrink back into himself again and Thorin felt sympathy welling up inside him - Frodo had probably had bad experiences with teachers before whenever he had become loud.

"How did you know it was true?" Thorin wanted to know, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. "Did you read it in a book somewhere?"

Frodo shook his head.

"No, I-" he seemed to fight himself for a moment. "I can't tell you. But I know it's true. I _know_ it!"

"It's alright, I believe you." Thorin raised his hands, trying to calm down the agitated boy in front of him. "What happened then?"

"The other kids turned around and were staring at me and Mr. Sackville was looking at me too and suddenly I felt really uncomfortable. I just wanted to disappear and I wanted to make them stop looking at me. I hate it when they look at me like that."

"And so you got angry, too." Thorin continued for him. Frodo nodded, glad to hear that there was no judgement in Thorin's voice.

"Yeah." He looked down at his hands again. "But Mr. Sackville wouldn't stop looking, even though I told him I didn't like it."

"And what did you do then?" Thorin carefully nudged him on, wanting to hear the entire story told in Frodo's words.

"I told him that I knew what he'd done to his dog when he was in primary school. That he'd thrown stones at it and accidentally killed it. And so I kept shouting at him 'you killed it, you killed it, you killed it', just so that he would finally stop looking at me." Frodo fell silent again and Thorin took a deep breath, trying to sort through everything the lad had just said. Had he made up the story with the dog? Or had it really happened? But if so, how did he know?

"But he didn't, did he. He kept looking at you." Thorin prompted Frodo. Frodo swallowed.

"He did. And then he shouted at me and told me to shut up. H-he called me a 'freak'..." The boy seemed especially distraught by the last bit.

Thorin shook his head. Whatever Frodo had done, a teacher that lost control over himself like that could get into quite some trouble, as rightly he should. It was only doubtful whether the school's director would believe Frodo or the teacher - and from what Thorin had heard, it was unfortunately more than likely that the other pupils in the class would probably side with their teacher over the matter rather than with Frodo.

"Listen to me." He waited until Frodo looked up and their gazes met. He needed him to understand what he was going to say now, needed him to know that it was the truth.

"You are not a freak." he told Frodo, putting all the conviction into his voice that he had. "You might be different from others, yes. They might not always understand you and you don't always understand them, either. But you are not a freak. You are not worth any less than they are. Alright?"

"Alright." Frodo nodded. It seemed like he was indeed believing Thorin or at least trying to.

"Good." Thorin smiled. "Now Frodo...have you ever heard of free association writing?"

Frodo shook his head.

"It's when you don't think about what you're writing. You just put your pen on paper or your fingers onto a keyboard and wait to see what happens. Sometimes rather unexpected things can come out of that writing. Have you ever done any?"

"No." Frodo's voice sounded firm, but Thorin could still tell that he was lying. Interesting, he thought. He would have liked to see the kind of writing Frodo would have done if his mind wasn't inhibited by all his fears of what others would think of him. Maybe at some point they could do it together or he could somehow convince Frodo to show him what he'd written. For now, however, he left it at that.

"Mr. Oakenshield..." Frodo's voice ripped him out of his thoughts. "if you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?"

Thorin thought Dwalin's laughter and his arms around him. He remembered how Dwalin would sometimes get up first on the morning after a long workday and make pancakes for breakfast and the way he would sometimes brush Thorin's hair aside with a soft movement and press the lightest of kisses on his temple when he thought Thorin was sleeping. He remembered Dwalin's silence and the half-empty whiskey bottle on the table.

"My husband happy and by my side for the rest of our lives." he said quietly. He hadn't wanted to say anything like that - private life and work didn't mix, after all. But somehow it had come out of him and it was the most honest of answers he could have given. "And you?"

Frodo looked at him for a long moment before he spoke.

"I don't want to be scared anymore."


	7. Chapter 7

_It's a beautiful late summer morning. One of those days where it isn't too hot yet, just the right temperature to feel comfortable in. The summer is slowly waning off and autumn is coming, already sending a cooling breeze over the land. It will soon be here fully with its strange mixture of sunshine and rain and cold nights when everyone wishes for a warm fireplace in their house and will complain about having to use the heating already._

_For now, however, Thorin and Dwalin are lying on Thorin's bed, lazily enjoying the second last day of the holiday they have taken together. They have gone up to Scotland to visit the places where Dwalin grew up and see some of his family; now they are taking the last few days entirely for themselves. It has been a wonderful time that both of them have enjoyed tremendously - even though or maybe because they did have their first big fight a week ago that left Thorin staring angrily at the wall for an entire afternoon and Dwalin going outside and kicking around pebbles until they had both calmed down enough to talk it all through. Somehow resolving it had only brought them more closely together._

_It's almost noon already and yet neither of them wants to move. Both of them are naked, half covered by blankets and half enjoying the fresh breeze coming in through the window on their naked skin, cooling the sweat on it from their lovemaking before. Thorin is lying on his stomach and Dwalin's fingers are drawing random patterns on his bare back, his touch soft and barely noticeable. He can feel Dwalin's comfortable closeness, can still sense his smell on his own skin and feels light and as if every single problem of the world is far away._

_"What do you think about moving in together?" The words are out of his mouth before he can hold them back and he doesn't know where they come from. Dwalin's hand on his back stills before it continues on its way. Thorin waits for a reply and when it doesn't come he turns around, catching hold of Dwalin's fingers and kissing his knuckles before he looks up into those grey eyes that seem to hold all the wonders of the world for him. Dwalin's expression is difficult to read._

_"Too early?" he asks, silently cursing himself. "Are you angry?"_

_"No." Dwalin replies, leaving open which of Thorin's two questions he means. "I just- it caught me slightly off guard, is all. I didn't think you would ask. That you'd be serious."_

_It is something that Thorin has heard from him before - for some reason Dwalin seems to have a hard time believing that Thorin is reciprocating his feelings with the same intensity. Both of them still value their freedom; but they also value their time together and are seeking every opportunity they can to spend it together._

_"And why not?" Now that it's clear that Dwalin isn't angry, Thorin slowly feels the laziness return. "We sleep over at each other's place more often than not by now anyway. And the past two weeks showed that we can live together. I'll even tolerate your smelly socks on my underwear if that's what you're worried about."_

_Dwalin flashes him a grin; he famously leaves his clothes wherever he sheds them whereas Thorin is always very specific about where his clothes go, even the dirty ones. Thorin reaches up to put his hand on Dwalin's neck and pull him down._

_"Yes. I think I'd like moving in with you." Dwalin replies as their gazes lock and instead of answering, Thorin simply kisses his smile until they are both breathless._

_*_

Just as Bilbo had finished most of his household chores and had begun working on his next article, still thinking about how to best confront Frodo about the pendant he had found and the pages of strange writing, the phone in the hallway was ringing. Bilbo sighed and got up from his laptop at the kitchen table, frowning when he saw the number of Frodo's school appearing on the display. He hoped nothing bad had happened.

"Bilbo Baggins?" He took the call.

"Mr. Baggins? Your son Frodo has gotten into trouble at school today and the director told me to inform you about it." Bilbo sighed but didn't correct the use of 'son'. He was tired of explaining his entire family history to people who should know but couldn't be bothered to look it up or remember.

"What happened?" He hoped anxiously that Frodo was alright.

"I'm afraid Frodo insulted a teacher rather gravely and was a general disturbance in class today, insisting on spreading lies. We have talked to him about it already but it would be good if you could, too, and make it clear to him that we cannot permit such behaviour in our school."

"And you are sure the teacher did nothing to provoke him?" Bilbo couldn't help but ask. He knew Frodo, knew that the boy, although he was often behaving strangely, would never start attacking someone verbally without any reason behind it.

"Our teachers have been working with children for years and all have excellent qualifications in their fields." The voice at the other end sounded rather cold and annoyed all of a sudden. Bilbo sighed.

"I'll talk to him." he promised before he put down the phone and pinched the bridge of his nose. Yet another thing to add to the growing list to talk about with Frodo this evening.

He tried in vain to concentrate on the work in front of him until he heard the sound of a key in a keyhole and the front door opening only moments later. He got up from his seat at the kitchen table to meet Frodo who was currently dutifully taking off his shoes before stepping further inside the house.

"Hey." Bilbo smiled at him before he helped him take off his schoolbag. "How was the day at school?"

Frodo stilled in his movements for a moment before he continued to take off his shoes. He didn't say anything and didn't dare meet Bilbo's eyes.

"They called me earlier today." Bilbo said gently. "But I want to hear your version of the story first. Why don't you get changed and then we go and sit down in the kitchen with a nice cup of hot cocoa?"

"Okay." Frodo still wasn't meeting Bilbo's eyes and Bilbo sighed. He ruffled his nephew's hair before sending him upstairs to his room to get changed out of his school uniform. Then he ventured into the kitchen to make the promised hot chocolate for Frodo and some coffee for himself. Frodo did indeed come down again after a few minutes and Bilbo patted the chair beside him, just shoving the mug of hot chocolate in his nephew's hand. Frodo took a deep sip before he looked up at Bilbo again.

"Now tell me." Bilbo prompted him gently. "What happened?"

And so Frodo told him. Bilbo listened, encouraging him to go on talking when Frodo's voice seemed to falter, but otherwise not saying a single word. He could hear the deep hurt in the boy's voice and his anger at the teacher grew stronger and stronger. Yes, what Frodo had done hadn't been right - but what the teacher had done certainly hadn't been right either and he was determined to bring up the issue with the school at some point. He would not let them treat his nephew this way.

"It's alright, Frodo, I understand what happened." he sighed. "I know it's a hard thing to do, but you need to learn how to control yourself a little better. Maybe the next time you can ask the teacher whether you could go to the toilet? Or take a piece of paper and rip it into pieces. It's what my Ma said she always did when she noticed that she was getting too angry."

Frodo nodded, taking in his uncle's words and obviously relieved that Bilbo didn't seem too angry.

"Also, even if you think you are right, you don't always have to insist on it. Sometimes, just sometimes, it's better to remain quiet. What do you say we do some internet searching later on to see whether you were right? And if that doesn't bring up anything, we can go to the library."

"Yes!" Frodo seemed rather taken with the idea.

"Good, then we'll do that after dinner." Bilbo smiled at him. "Feeling a bit better now?"

"Yeah." Frodo gave his uncle a tiny smile and finished off the hot chocolate in his mug. Bilbo reached out and ruffled his hair. He took a deep breath before he forged on.

"There is something else I need to talk to you about though, Frodo." he said. "I was cleaning up earlier and putting some things to order into your room like you allowed me to when I accidentally knocked over some boxes. Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Frodo seemed to think for a while, cradling his empty mug with his hands.

"No?" he said finally. It sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Are you sure?" Bilbo said firmly, hoping that Frodo would simply admit to having taken the pendant so they could work out why and get the entire affair over with.

"Yes." Frodo's voice sounded quiet but firm and Bilbo wanted nothing more than believe him. He would have, if it weren't for the evidence to the contrary in his own pocket. With a sigh he took out the silver flower pendant and put it on the table in front of him. Frodo's eyes widened slightly, but he still didn't say anything.

"I found this in one of your boxes today." Bilbo explained to him, trying to keep his voice calm and non-threatening. "You know that this was my mother's favourite necklace and it means a lot to me. Just tell me why you took it and I won't be angry."

"I didn't take it." Frodo's voice was stubborn but also helpless. Bilbo sighed.

"And how did it get into one of your boxes then? Did something magic it in there? Or teleport?"

"I don't know."

"Frodo, look at me." Bilbo waited until his nephew had lifted his gaze and was looking into his eyes. "Remember how we made a pinky promise that we would always tell each other the truth? To make it easier for both of us, because honesty is very important?"

Frodo nodded.

"Then be honest with me. There's no other way the pendant could have gotten into your room."

"But I didn't take it. I swear!" Frodo sounded both angry and helpless.

Bilbo shook his head. Usually he believed his nephew, especially when he sounded as desperate as he did now, but there was no other explanation of how the pendant could have gotten into his boxes.

"Maybe you took it and you cannot remember it?" He tried it one last time.

"Maybe." Frodo still sounded doubtful, but it was obvious he was thinking about it and honestly considering the possibility. Bilbo couldn't say what it was, but something stroke him as odd about the entire affair - he usually knew when Frodo was lying and as scared and forlorn as he was looking right now, he could have sworn the lad was telling the truth. However, he could feel his patience slowly waning and so he decided to leave the topic for now.

"Keep thinking about it." he told Frodo. "Maybe you'll remember something."

Frodo just nodded, looking rather distraught.

"Alright." Bilbo cleaned the mugs off the table to make some space. Then he remembered the post he'd collected from their postbox this morning.

"Oh, I almost forgot. There was a letter in the post for you. Here." He gave the colourful envelope to Frodo who looked visibly surprised to see it. He didn't get post very often and when he did it was usually bureaucratic forms that were rather uninteresting to him. Bilbo handed him his letter opener and watched as Frodo slowly sliced open the envelope, took out the card that had been inside and began to read it.

"It's an invitation!" he told Bilbo, his voice full of surprise. "For Tom's birthday party next week."

"Oh, that's great!" Bilbo was as surprised as Frodo was - his nephew usually didn't really get any invitations to birthday parties. "We'll have to think of a present to buy him then. Are you looking forward to it?"

"Yeah, I think." Frodo still seemed rather taken aback by the invitation and Bilbo's heart bled slightly for him. He wished there would be an easy way for Frodo to make friends. Maybe this would be the first step for him.


	8. Chapter 8

_"I don't like the kitchen." Dwalin whispers to Thorin. Thorin nods; he has to admit that Dwalin is right. The flat itself looks nice and everything, but the kitchen is horrible - small and the hub looks like it's from the eighties and hasn't been cleaned properly since. They thank the landlady sincerely before they exit the house and step out in the street. Autumn is definitely here now, the cold wind whipping their coats and the cloudy sky looks like it is going to rain anytime soon._

_"A shame, because the landlady was really nice." Thorin remarks and Dwalin nods. They've been turned down three times on the phone already when they mentioned they were two men looking for a flat; two more have told them relatively bluntly to go away when they noticed that they weren't just friends searching for a flatshare. Thorin doesn't regret being more open about who he loves since he and Dwalin got together, but sometimes he wishes the world that they are living in would be a little bit different and more accepting._

_"Yeah, not like the guy earlier who pulled a face like we were Sodom and Gomorrah reborn in human form when he saw us..." Dwalin snorts. Thorin has to laugh when he remembers the expression. In hindsight it_ was _rather amusing, he has to admit._

_"Alright, what's next on the list?" Thorin asks and Dwalin pulls a much battered piece of paper out of his coat. "The one in Whittler's Road. Looks nice and relatively big, but it's pretty close to the train tracks, so we'll have to see about the noise..."_

_"Well, let's have a look first."_

_Thorin has his hands shoved in his pockets and so he is surprised when Dwalin raises his arm and asks "May I?" before putting it around Thorin's as Thorin nods. He smiles; Dwalin knows that he isn't really fond of public displays of affection, but he does enjoy having Dwalin so close._

_The next flat does, unfortunately, turn out to be too close to the train tracks and thus far too loud. They look at three more places that day and something seems to be wrong with each and every one of them before they head back to Thorin's flat for dinner and a nice evening together. This time neither of them feels like cooking so they simply order some pizza that they eat lying on the couch and watching TV._

_"You know what, I could just move into here." Dwalin says all of a sudden between two bites of pepperoni pizza. "The place is large enough and if we redecorate, it might even look good."_

_Thorin feigns a punch into his ribs._

_"Oy, my sense of aesthetics isn't_ that _bad." He takes another bite of his own pizza and thinks about Dwalin's proposition. "You're right though. There's certainly enough space here..."_

_"We'll sleep on it." Dwalin stretches and yawns. "But I, for one, am tired of looking at flats day after day and seeing only ones that I don't like."_

_"Same here." Thorin grins and, following a sudden urge, leans over to kiss Dwalin. "'Our home.' Sounds good, doesn't it?"_

_*_

The day of the birthday party that Frodo had been invited to came along with drizzle and a grey sky. Tom lived only a few streets away which didn't make the walk in the horrid weather too long for them; nonetheless, Bilbo made sure to take his umbrella before they would both be completely soaked.

They still hadn't come to a satisfying conclusion in their argument about the pendant and Bilbo had it let rest after a while, knowing they wouldn't get anywhere if they would just keep arguing further. Instead, he had decided to sit down with Frodo and do some research on the internet to see whether the boy had been right about what had happened at his school and they could somehow prove his teacher wrong.

It took them a while, but in the end they had indeed unearthed a local history webpage that pointed them to the fact that the old school building hadn't only been used for trials, but also as prison and sometime execution ground. The next day Bilbo met Frodo at school and together, they ventured into the library not far away to look up the books that the website had said would contain more information. The librarian seemed both surprised and happy that someone so young was showing such interest in the local history; Bilbo could see how much good it did Frodo to get such compliments and not having his request dismissed as if it were nothing. From time to time he still looked haunted, as if he had seen something that scared him but that remained invisible to both Bilbo and the librarian; but when they were finished with their inquiries and took the two books home they had managed to find Frodo was smiling and seemed rather proud of himself as Bilbo noticed happily.

He took the books and a printout of what they had found to school the next day and when he came home, he had proudly told Bilbo that Mr. Sackville had acknowledged that Frodo had been right. He had also given him the task to do a little presentation about what he had found out so Frodo could tell the class. Frodo said that his teacher hadn't exactly looked happy about it, but Bilbo was simply glad that he had at least regained some kernels of respect from his peers and the teacher.

He hoped that today's birthday party might be another step in that direction. Frodo had been half excited, half scared to go and it was clear how nervous he was as he walked very closely to Bilbo when they were going over to Tom's house.

Frodo took a deep breath when they arrived before he pushed the button for the bell. It was apparently Tom himself who opened the door, a typical posh-looking suburban middle-class kid in Bilbo's opinion who seemed rather unhappy that Frodo had come and took the present Frodo was holding from him without even so much as a 'thank you.' Bilbo frowned, but he stepped inside after Frodo and, when he caught a second alone with him, asked:

"We can leave if you want to, Frodo. You don't have to stay."

Bilbo knew what it was like to be bullied. He had always been quiet, more focused on his books and things like gardening than what most other boys in his class used to love and as such been an easy subject for their ridicule. However, he'd always had that slightly adventurous streak too that meant he would always be the first to volunteer for doing science experiments and the like. He wished he could have protected Frodo from the bullying of his class mates but he also knew that if he would say something the repercussions for his nephew would likely be worse.

Frodo shook his head, a look of determination entering his eyes.

"No, I'll stay." he said, quite firmly.

"Alright, then." Bilbo sighed and reached out to give him a quick hug that Frodo returned. "I'll get you later, okay? Or, if you want to leave, either call me or come home, I'll be there and waiting for you."

"Yeah." Frodo nodded and walked into the house, presumably to join the other kids whose shouting and laughter Bilbo could hear already from upstairs. He was about to turn around and leave when a voice sounded out behind him.

"Bilbo Baggins?"

The voice belonged to a middle-aged woman. She looked rather exhausted and so Bilbo discerned she must be Tom's mother and had probably spent most of this Saturday organising the party. Behind her someone who he presumed was her husband looked out from the kitchen. Bilbo frowned; her voice was vaguely familiar but he couldn't quite place it at first. It took him a moment to do so.

"Anna?" he finally asked. They had been in the same class all the way through secondary school. He'd never really known her well but neither had she been one of those who had bullied him.

"Yeah." she smiled. "I didn't know you lived so close by. So is Frodo your son then?"

"No, not quite. He's my nephew, but I adopted him after his parents died."

As always, the mention of the terrible tragedy that had happened in their family lead to a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry." Anna said finally and it sounded sincere. "Why don't you come in for a cup of tea? I think the children are currently playing by themselves and we'll have the cake later on. For now a break might be nice."

"Yeah, why not. Thank you." Bilbo smiled at her. A break might indeed be nice for him and this way he had a good reason to stay should Frodo get into any trouble.

"Tea or coffee?" Anna asked him after he had taken off his shoes and followed her inside the house.

"Standard tea is fine." Bilbo told her. "No milk or sugar, thanks."

Her husband, who was nursing his own mug of tea in the corner, came over to shake Bilbo's hand.

"John." he introduced himself. "I'm Anna's husband. I don't think we've met yet. We thought it would be nice to invite Frodo to the party, too, since he doesn't seem to get invited to these things much."

"Bilbo." Bilbo shook his hand - John's grip was firm, but he wasn't meeting his eyes. Bilbo was mulling over what he'd just said, but decided to let the comment go for now. There was a moment of silence in which Bilbo took his cup from Anna and took a sip of tea so that he didn't have to speak. It was Anna who broke the silence first.

"So, how have you been?" she asked him with a smile.

"Not too bad, yeah." Bilbo replied. "I have a nice job at a gardening magazine and my nephew to take care of..."

"That's nice to hear." Anna gave him another, non-committal smile. "As you can see, we went an almost boring, normal way too - married, two children, nice house in a little suburb...nothing too eventful in our lives yet, I'm afraid."

Once again none of them said much. It occurred to Bilbo that he didn't really know what to talk about with Anna and her husband - even though their lives were, in a way, relatively similar, they still seemed so different from him. It was Anna who broke the silence once again.

"Say...have you ever thought of getting married?" she asked Bilbo. "It must be hard bringing up a child all by yourself, especially as a single man."

"Why would it be especially hard? There are lots of single mothers out there and even quite a few single fathers." Bilbo smiled at her although mentally he was grating his teeth. He didn't think it was fair to assume that every woman's ultimate purpose was to rear children and using that assumption to tell men they couldn't have any or weren't capable to bring them up by themselves.

"Well, it's only...we heard that Frodo was behaving strangely at school and if he had a more stable living environment..."

"Excuse me?" Bilbo was slowly getting angry.

"You know, maybe with a second parent and some female influence in his life it would be easier for him."

"Are you implying I should have left Frodo to get taken care of by somebody else, maybe a nice married couple? Who he didn't know and had no connection to? I don't think it would have been that much better for him. And we are doing quite well to be honest. We would probably be doing even better if your son wouldn't be bullying him so much."

"No, of course not, I was just-"

"I can see what you were 'just' trying to do. And to be honest, I don't want to hear any more of it. So, thank you for the lovely tea, Anna, but I believe it's time for me to go."

"Bilbo, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" Anna's voice faltered and she had obviously run out of things to say. It sat quite right with Bilbo - he was still fuming internally and it was rare for him to get this angry. That Anna had only the best intentions at heart only made it worse. It was probably best that he left now, before he said something that he might regret. He marched out of the kitchen without looking back.

Just as Bilbo was putting his coat back on and reached out to grab the umbrella from its stand he heard a high-pitched scream coming from the room directly above.

Frodo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure everybody knows someone like Anna, right? People who just 'mean well' but that somehow makes their views and actions even worse, because they genuinely think they're just trying to help. Her character isn't in the original movie but I thought it would be interesting to dive into the environment a bit more deeply and show what kind of attitudes Bilbo is probably getting in his neighbourhood.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A random Tauriel appears! Her role was actually first filled with Gandalf but then I thought, fuck this, I need more female characters. So here we go :P.

_"We are not painting our living room wall blue, Thorin. No way."_

_Dwalin sets his hands on his hips and glowers at Thorin. Thorin has to bite back a laugh - had it been anybody else but Dwalin and the subject something more serious than simple paint he probably would have been intimidated, but this is simply ridiculous._

_"And why not?" he grins. "It would go great with the carpet."_

_"You might have a PhD and everything, but clearly you have absolutely no idea how to decorate a room so that it's looks nice." Dwalin tries to keep up his serious tone but he's failing."I mean, obviously it has to be purple. Bright purple."_

_"Ok, fine. But only if we can put blue stars on it." Thorin grins._

_"Yeah. With yellow outlines around them." Dwalin begins to chuckle now as well, unable to help himself._

_"How about we have a beer and_ then _try and come up with an idea that suits both of us?" Thorin asks him._

_"Good idea." Dwalin stretches and moves to the fridge where he digs out two cans and throws one of them at Thorin. Thorin catches it and saunters over to the sofa, flopping down on it with a sigh. They've been throwing ideas around on how to redesign the flat (their landlord is an old friend of Thorin's and has nothing against it) the entire day, but haven't really gotten anywhere yet. As it turns out, his and Dwalin's ideas of good interior design are indeed rather different. So far they have argued about the shape and style of the bed, the colour of every single room in the flat and whether to get a new shower or not and Thorin is sure that this won't be the end of it. For some reason both he and Dwalin still enjoy the arguing, however, often enough breaking it up with a joke like they have now._

_They've had the idea of revamping the flat a while ago, shortly after Dwalin had moved in - it had begun with them wondering where to put Dwalin's books and beginning to shift around furniture and ended with them deciding to just do redesign it completely with the use of their savings._

_Dwalin lets himself fall down on the sofa next to Thorin._

_"So, you regretting it yet, letting me move in with you?" he asks, grinning. Thorin unabashedly turns and leans his back against Dwalin's side, enjoying the feeling of warmth from his partner's skin._

_"Very much so." he complains and sighs theatrically. Dwalin laughs, especially when Thorin takes his arm and drapes it over his stomach, intertwining their fingers. "Maybe you should think about making amendments."_

_"And what kind of amendments would that be?" Dwalin kisses the top of Thorin's head, his voice slowly turning suggestive._

_"Hmmm, I'm not sure..." Thorin shifts slightly to give Dwalin access to his throat and turns to press a kiss on his chin. "I've done enough thinking today, now it's your turn. Be creative."_

_Dwalin simply grins in reply._

*

Bilbo was racing up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him, repeatedly shouting Frodo's name in the process. He could hear Anna and her husband coming up behind him, but paid them now mind - his only thought was for his nephew and the icy fear in his heart was like nothing he had ever known. Frodo was still screaming, loud, piercing screams that sounded like he was in incredible pain and a thousand different horror scenarios were flashing through Bilbo's head in a single moment - Frodo with a broken leg, Frodo somehow managing to have burnt his hands, Frodo with his head bashed open because he had fallen down from somewhere, Frodo having cut himself on something somehow...

When he came upstairs he was met by a number of children sniggering and the sound of pounding coming from a closed wardrobe. Bilbo didn't spare the children any glance, but noted that they didn't seem to be keen on doing anything to help Frodo. He was still screaming, although his cries had become raw and Bilbo ran to the large wardrobe, turning the knob to try and open it.

"Frodo, it's fine. I'm here, it's alright, I'll get you out."

He kept babbling and hoping that his nephew would hear him, that he would understand. For some reason the wardrobe wasn't opening, however, and Bilbo snarled in frustration as he tried to turn the knob and pull it open. He turned around to look for something he could use to bash open the door, but just as he was gripping a chair, the door flew open and Frodo stumbled out, his expression a mask of fear, tears and snot from crying streaking his face.

Bilbo ran towards him and enveloped him in a hug. Frodo was trembling and his body was so cold as if he had just spent hours in the rain outside. He was still crying hysterically, hiccupping and unable to say anything.

"Sssssshhhh. Sssshhhhhh, Frodo, it's fine, I'm here, ssshhhhh, it's alright now..." Bilbo pressed his nephew close to himself, trying to calm him down, but Frodo didn't seem to be able to. He was hyperventilating and didn't seem to be able to stop until he suddenly passed out in Bilbo's arms.

Bilbo's eyes were cold as ice when he carried his nephew downstairs and accepted Anna's offer to drive them to the nearest hospital as quickly as possible. He didn't speak a single word all the way, but worry and anger were radiating off him in equal measure and Anna was perceptive enough not to say anything either.

Frodo had woken up again by the time they reached the hospital but he was still weak and shivering, unable to walk on his own. No matter how much Bilbo tried to get him to talk, he remained silent, burying his face in Bilbo's coat instead and never letting go of his uncle's hand. It was hard for the nurses to get him to sit up on his own and impossible to get him to go out of his uncle's sight. They could find nothing suspicious with Frodo even after a lot of tests had been run and it was late in the afternoon; nonetheless they decided that the boy should stay at the hospital at least for the rest of the day and one night so they could keep him under observation before letting him go home the next day.

Bilbo was sitting at Frodo's bedside because the his nephew had insisted on it. The doctors had offered him the opportunity to spend the night here with him and Bilbo had gladly taken them up on their offer although he told them he would have to get back home to get a few things first. He promised Frodo he would stay with him until he was feeling secure enough again to be alone for a few minutes and he had no intention of breaking that promise.

Frodo still looked frightened, but at least he was breathing normally again and his hands were slowly warming up, not as ice-cold as they had been before anymore.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?" Bilbo asked him softly. "You don't have to." he added when he saw Frodo flinching as he remembered.

"Can I get another hug?" he asked instead, his voice trembling slightly.

"Of course you can." Bilbo smiled. "Make some space."

Frodo gave him the hint of a smile before moving to the side a bit so that Bilbo could sit on his bed, lean back and draw Frodo close to him for a hug. For a while they were sitting like that, trying to bring normality into a situation that wasn't normal in any way.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there any faster, Frodo." Bilbo apologised to him. Frodo nodded and just pressed a little more closely to his side.

"I was playing hide-and-seek with the other children." Frodo suddenly said. His voice was quiet and he wasn't looking at Frodo, but at his own hands. "It went well at first. But then I didn't want to get into the wardrobe to hide and they made me. They pushed me inside and called me a freak and then they locked it. It was dark and stuffy and I couldn't get out. I just couldn't-"

His voice was breaking again and Bilbo patted his arm.

"Ssshhh it's fine, it's all over now. You're safe here." he told Frodo. "Do you want me to talk to the others' parents about this and make sure it doesn't happen again?"

Frodo seemed to think about his question for a while before he shook his head.

"It wouldn't work." he said quietly. Bilbo sighed and gently stroked over Frodo's head. He knew that his nephew was probably right and in the end Frodo would be the one to feel the repercussions. Still, he felt so terribly helpless, filled with rage and fear for the child who he had long since come to love like he were his own. He just wished he could do something to make things easier for Frodo.

"I'm sorry, Frodo." he murmured more to himself than to his nephew. Frodo didn't reply, but looked like he was slowly returning to his normal self and enjoying the safety that Bilbo's closeness seemed to give him.

"Do you mind me going away for a bit now to get some of our stuff and new clothes?" he asked Frodo softly. "I won't be gone for long."

"Okay." Frodo seemed loathe to let him go, but he knew that they needed their things for tonight. "Promise you'll be back soon?"

"I promise." Bilbo smiled. "Big pinky promise, okay?"

"Mhm." Frodo nodded and huddled deeper into his blankets when Bilbo stood up. Bilbo sighed as he looked down at him, digging in his coat for his wallet. He'd have to take the bus back home and hoped his Oyster Card still hand enough money left on it for that.

The door to Frodo's room opened a split second before Bilbo reach out to touch the handle. A doctor stood on the other side, looking surprised to see Bilbo standing directly in front of her.

"Oh, excuse me." she said. "Are you Mister Baggins?"

"Yes." Bilbo looked at her and gave her a non-committal smile. Her name sign said 'Dr. Tauriel Heniad.'

"My name is Dr. Heniad." she introduced herself just a moment later. "If you have a minute, I would like a quick chat with you if that's alright."

"Yeah, sure." Bilbo stepped out of the room and past her, softly closing the door behind him.

"Is everything alright with Frodo?" he asked her anxiously, fearing that one of the tests might have brought any worrying results.

"Yes, your nephew seems fine, apart from some lingering after effects of the anxiety attack earlier. Nothing to worry about." She gave Bilbo a quick smile.

"However...we found quite a few scratch marks and wounds on his arms and legs when we were examining him earlier and I'm afraid I'll have to ask you about those. You are his uncle, you say?"

"Yes, I am. I've adopted him after his parents died four years ago." Bilbo was confused at first before it began dawning on him what the doctor was insinuating.

"You think it was me." he said incredulously. "You think I'm hurting my nephew."

"I'm not thinking anything at the moment, Mr. Baggins. But the law is such that we have to do everything in our possibility to ensure Frodo's safety." Dr. Heniad's voice sounded calm, but there was a sliver of distrust lacing its edges.

"He's safe with me, I can assure you." Bilbo said, trying to keep his voice under control. This day was slowly getting too much for him - first Anna's accusations, then Frodo's breakdown and now the doctor. "I would never, _never_ hurt my nephew. Not in a million years."

Dr. Heniad nodded, although she didn't seem convinced.

"I might have to ask you a few further questions later on." she told him before she stepped aside to make way for him so he could leave the hospital. Bilbo nodded, but didn't trust himself enough to give her another calm answer. He took a deep breath and walked out of the building into the fresh air, desperately asking himself where all this would end.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The movie scene this chapter is based is once again one of my favourite scenes. It's beautiful, terrifying and somehow sad which is why I have left in quite a bit of the original dialogue.

_Thorin sighs when he comes home, dropping his bag on the floor and sinking down on the sofa. He tiredly rubs his eyes - it's late, long past dinnertime and he has been working since early this morning._

_"Thorin?" Dwalin comes over from the kitchen, a glass of wine in his hand. "Hey."_

_He bends down to kiss Thorin who returns his affections with a tired smile._

_"I'm sorry I'm so late." Thorin sighs. "This new case...the boy, Azog, is like no one I've ever seen before. I just can't quite make sense of him and his behaviour is incredibly erratic. One moment he seems like a completely normal little boy and the other he is screaming and quivering in fear although seemingly nothing has changed, no triggers I can make out, nothing..."_

_Dwalin sits on the sofa's edge, leaning down to press another kiss into his hair._

_"This is the third day in a row that you've been home so late. You barely sleep. And I rarely see you." A sad little smile flickers across his face. "Destroying yourself won't help him, Thorin. It won't help any of us. Get some rest, don't overdo it."_

_"I'm sorry." Thorin leans his head against Dwalin's side, suddenly incredibly tired. "It's just...not being able to help him makes me angry with myself. Sad. I just...I wish there was more I could do."_

_"You'll find a way, I am sure." Dwalin reaches down the same moment that Thorin reaches up and they intertwine their fingers. "I've kept the rest of the pie warm in the oven. Would you like some?"_

_Only now does Thorin notice that he hasn't eaten anything since lunch and his stomach grumbles loudly in response. He laughs quietly._

_"That's a yes, I think."_

_Dwalin laughs and puts down his wine glass on the table before going back into the kitchen. After a moment Thorin heaves his body up to follow him, feeling that it would be unfair to let him do all the work. He gets out a second wine glass and fills it whilst Dwalin cuts and shovels some pie on a plate for him. Thorin notices with a sting in his heart that this is one of Dwalin's self-made pies, one of Thorin's favourite meals; Dwalin must have started making it directly after he came home from his own work. When Dwalin puts down the plate to close the oven door again, Thorin walks over to him and wraps his arms around him from behind._

_"I'm sorry." he says again. "I'm sorry that I've left you waiting and for working so long and not paying enough attention to you."_

_Dwalin sighs and turns around, drawing him close._

_"I'm just worried about you. And yeah, a little hurt too, I guess." he admits. They have promised each other early on to always be honest. "You just need to take better care of yourself, alright?"_

_"Alright."_

_*_

"Hey, Frodo." Thorin sat down at the boy's bedside and waited until he turned over to look at him. Frodo looked exhausted and still slightly scared, but a small smile crossed his face when he saw Thorin. He was huddled deeply into his blankets, as if they would provide him with safety from whatever was happening.

"How are you feeling?" Thorin asked him gently.

"Tired." Frodo replied after a moment, but didn't want to volunteer any more information.

"Would you like to talk about what happened?"

Frodo looked down at his blankets and the movement that his feet made underneath. Then he began to talk, speaking quietly and without looking at Thorin. He told him how he had been invited to a birthday party and bullied by the other kids and how they had locked him in the wardrobe in the end until the door had opened and he had finally stumbled out to fall into his uncle's arms. Thorin felt once more like there was more to the story, but he didn't ask, not now at least.

"Do you know any good stories?" Frodo asked him suddenly.

"A story?" Thorin wondered aloud. "Something like a bedtime story, you mean?"

"Yeah. It's not bedtime yet, but..."

"Alright, a story then." Thorin thought about it for a moment before the smiled. "Have you heard the one of the wolf and the raven before?"

"No." Frodo shook his head, looking at him expectantly.

"Okay, so...once upon a time there were a wolf and a raven. They were very good friends - when the wolf made a kill, the raven could eat the carrion and with his good eyes the raven could spy the prey for the wolf. They lived like that for a long time until they decided they wanted to see the world. And so they went off together."

Thorin made a pause, seeing with delight that Frodo seemed to like his story.

"How do you think it goes on?" he asked him. Frodo thought about the question for a moment before speaking.

"Something needs to happen." he said thoughtfully. "There needs to be a twist. Every good story has a twist."

"And what kind of twist would that be?"

"I don't know. You're telling the story, aren't you?" Frodo shot back. Thorin chuckled at the newly found cockiness in his voice. Suddenly Frodo reminded him of his nephews who he hadn't seen in quite a while. Especially Kíli was always the boisterous one and more than once he had tried to put both him and his brother Fíli to bed at night when he was taking care of them together with Dwalin only to find that they didn't want to sleep until he told them bedtime stories, one more fantastical than the other. He should call Dís so that they could meet up once he was more at ease with this case...

"Mr. Oakenshield?" Frodo's voice penetrated his thoughts and Thorin looked up, slightly embarrassed that he had seemingly managed to get lost in his memories. _Unprofessional_ , a voice inside him whispered. _You need to be more careful_.

"I'm sorry, Frodo." Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing his thoughts back into the here and now.

"Why are you sad?" It was one of the rare moments that Frodo was looking him directly in the eyes and Thorin almost shrank back from the intensity of his blue gaze.

"Why do you think I'm sad?" he returned the question.

"It's the way you look." Frodo told him. "Something in your eyes that makes it look like you are really sad."

"Is it?" Thorin attempted a smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't really be talking about this..."

Frodo didn't reply, but his gaze clearly said that Thorin couldn't expect Frodo to trust him if he didn't trust Frodo in return. Thorin sighed and thought about it for a moment, knowing that this was a clear breach of his work ethics. On the other hand...he truly wanted to help Frodo. Maybe this was a way he could finally fully earn the boy's trust.

"I love what I'm doing." he began. "I've always loved talking to young people like you and being able to make them better. My husband always told me that I worked too much, but he also said he could see how much happiness what I was doing gave me. And then I met a little boy, a boy who was very afraid. I wanted to help him and so I talked to him a lot, I listened to him, trying to find out what was happening to him. But I made a mistake and I couldn't help him. And ever since I found out that I couldn't, I feel very guilty. I guess I've changed. My husband has seen it too. We used to be very happy together. We used to talk like there was nobody in the world but us. But now..."

Thorin took a deep breath and gave Frodo a smile.

"But now I've met this wonderful little boy who is really great, and he reminds me a lot of the other one. And I really, really want to help him, so that he doesn't have to be afraid any longer."

Frodo had been listening to his words with wide eyes, especially the last bits of them. His hands were clenched around his blanket as he was drawing it up to his chin. Something inside his gaze changed and when he looked up at Thorin again there was determination in his eyes.

"If you want to, I can tell you my secret now, too."

Thorin simply nodded and let Frodo speak. The boy was clearly collecting his courage, breathing in deeply before he talked again, in a rather quiet tone this time.

"I see dead people." he whispered. Thorin thought he could feel his breath catch in his throat as it suddenly seemed to become colder around him. "You know when you get that prickling on your neck? The hairs on your arms standing up? That's them. They cannot see each other and only see what they want to see. They don't know they are dead."

Mind reeling, Thorin tried to hold on to his thoughts.

"What kind of dead people are they? Zombies? Or ghosts?"

Frodo shook his head.

"They look just like normal people. They are hurt, sometimes. Hurt badly so they can't be alive anymore. But I don't think they realise."

"How often do you see them?" There was only the slightest trembling in Thorin's voice. Frodo waited a moment with his reply.

"All the time." he whispered.

Thorin leaned back in his chair, trying to collect his thoughts. Whatever he had expected Frodo to say, it certainly hadn't been this. He hadn't thought that the boy's hallucinations wouldn't be quite so severe, so deeply ingrained. He sounded like he completely believed what he was saying.

"So today, in the wardrobe..." Thorin began, hoping Frodo would finish the sentence for him.

"I heard somebody shouting from inside. 'Let me out, let me out, please help me.'" Frodo swallowed. "That's why I didn't want to go in there. But the others locked me in and...I could _feel_ them. They scratched me and begged me to help. They were angry. And I couldn't get away."

Frodo shivered, burying himself more deeply inside his blankets.

"And back then when I saw you at school? Is that how you knew what had been going on there as well?"

Frodo nodded.

"They're there, all the time. Hanged people. And Mr. Sackville's dead dog kept following him around..." he shuddered. "Why do I have to be the one seeing them? Why can nobody else see them?"

"I don't know." Thorin sighed. "And the wounds on your arms? Were those the ghosts as well?"

"Yeah. They often get angry. And then they hurt me."

Thorin wondered if Frodo might be harming himself, maybe not even knowingly, in a desperate bid to proof that what he was saying was true. If he was honest, he didn't quite know where to start now that he knew what the problem was - how could he convince Frodo that what he was seeing wasn't real if it had obviously taken control of his life so completely?

"And have you...have you ever seen your parents, Frodo?"

Frodo went quiet at the question, looking down at his feet again,

"Once." he then said quietly. "They were wet. Mum had seaweed in her hair and Da's body looked...broken somehow. But they didn't say or do anything. They just stood there and looked at me. I think they were sad."

"Have you tried talking to them?" Thorin asked gently. Frodo shook his head.

"No, I was too scared..."

"Have you seen anybody else that you know?"

"Grandmother." Frodo said quietly. "But I'm afraid of her, too. I've never known her, I've only seen pictures of her. She doesn't really look angry but...what if she wants to hurt me, too?"

_I'm not helping him_. The thought suddenly stood bright and clear in Thorin's mind and he wanted to shout in frustration. Telling Thorin about the ghosts only seemed to make them more real in Frodo's mind. He was huddled deeply into his bedcovers now, only his face looking out and staring at Thorin.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Frodo asked him.

Thorin didn't know what to say.


	11. Chapter 11

_"I just don't know what else to do." Thorin sits on the sofa, face buried in his hands. He is exhausted beyond words, not even able to move when Dwalin squeezes himself in the space next to him. He feels like he wants to both scream and crumble into small pieces, but of course he can do neither. So he just sits there, trying to bring his anger and frustration with himself under control. Dwalin reaches out slowly, giving him space to withdraw if he wants to and when Thorin doesn't move, he softly begins massaging his back._

_"Hey." he says gently. "Calm down, Thorin, it's alright. You've given your best; nobody can expect you to do more than that."_

_"It's_ not _alright!" Thorin almost shouts out the words. He can feel Dwalin's hand on his back stop for a moment and takes a deep breath to calm himself down. "I'm sorry. I just- I hate nothing more than feeling so incredibly helpless."_

_"You want to tell me about it?"_

_"Give me another moment." Thorin takes a few deep breaths, leaning onto Dwalin as he does so and trying to take in his partner's warmth to calm himself down. It still takes him a while, but Dwalin is patient and waits, although he gets them some water to drink in the mean time. By then, Thorin has finally relaxed enough to be able to tell Dwalin just what exactly is going on. He talks about Azog and how, despite a year of continuing efforts from all of them, there just doesn't seem to be anything that works. On the contrary, Azog seems to be getting worse - his anxiety attacks and hallucinations seem to increase in frequency and intensity and whatever approach Thorin is trying, nothing seems to be helping._

_"He might be the first patient that I will have to give up upon. They are probably going to institutionalise him - and all because I was unable to do anything." Thorin looks down at his hands, balling them into fists and opening them, then clenching his fingers again. Dwalin takes one of his fists into a soft grip, gently uncurling Thorin's fingers one by one._

_"You can't help everyone." he says gently. "I know it's hard to accept but even you have your limits. You just have to try not to take it personally. It's not your fault."_

_"I know it isn't. Or, well, the rational part of my mind knows. The rest of it though...I think it might take a while to understand."_

_"Then give it all the time it needs." Dwalin suggests, still playing with Thorin's fingers. "In the mean time...would you like some brownies? They're freshly made."_

_Thorin has to laugh at the last sentence._

_"You're incredible. I would indeed love some fresh brownies." he grins. "And ice cream, if we still have some. Where would I even be without you?"_

_Dwalin grins back and then leans over to kiss him._

_"I don't want to know." he smiles._

_*_

As he had promised, Bilbo returned later that day when it had already turned into evening to spend the night with Frodo at the hospital. It was a strange night for both of them, in unfamiliar surroundings and with the shock of what had happened still deep inside their bones. Bilbo was glad when the next morning finally came; he had slept little and his dreams had been smothered by nightmares. Frodo seemed to have fared little better - we woke up more than once in the night, shouting something unintelligible and holding on to Bilbo as if he could protect him from whatever it was that had scared him so much.

The next morning both of them were keen on finally leaving the hospital. Bilbo had their bag packed shortly after breakfast already, waiting impatiently for them to be allowed to go. Before they could go, however, Dr. Heniad once again came to them and insisted on speaking to Frodo alone for a moment, 'so that he isn't under any pressure' as she expressed it. Bilbo could feel the anger rising up inside him again, but he controlled it, telling himself that the woman was only doing her job like any good doctor would. Still, it was frustrating that she would even think that he would dare hurt his nephew. Thankfully, their talk didn't last long and they were allowed to leave not long after. Bilbo didn't ask Frodo what he and Dr. Heniad had been talking about - he didn't want to give his nephew the feeling he had to defend himself somehow.

The bus ride back home passed mostly in silence although it wasn't necessarily an uncomfortable one. They were both exhausted and there was little to talk about - Frodo was leaning on Bilbo and kept nodding off from time to time and Bilbo let him sleep until they arrived at their stop. Frodo didn't want to wake up, however; by now he was sleeping soundly and Bilbo sighed before he waved apologetically at the bus driver for having to wait as he picked up Frodo and carried him out of the bus. He hadn't carried his nephew until he had been much smaller and too tired to walk one day; now Frodo was of course larger and heavier although still surprisingly light for a boy his age. Thankfully the bus stop wasn't very far from their house and after a bit of manoeuvring he even managed to unlock the door without dropping either Frodo or the keys.

When he stepped inside he noticed that one of the sleeves of Frodo's shirt and jacket had come up and were revealing his arm. Bilbo frowned; Dr. Heniad had been right. There were long read streaks on Frodo's skin, not bloody but looking as if he had been scratching himself rather firmly. He could understand the doctor's worry a little better now and once again anger was flaring up inside him - whoever had done this to his nephew would have to pay for it.

With a sigh he gently took off Frodo's coat and put him down on the sofa, spreading one of the large woollen blankets over him. He would probably wake up in a while - Bilbo could use the mean time to cook a late lunch for them, something hearty that Frodo liked and that would help both of them to forget what had happened on the previous day. First of all, however, he had something else to do.

Taking the phone out of its socket he dialled the Anna's number and went into his little workroom, closing the door behind him so he wouldn't wake up his nephew.

"Anna Hennings?" her voice sounded formal and slightly stressed. Bilbo could hear children screaming in the background.

"It's Bilbo." he said, as politely as possible. There was a pause at the other end and he could hear a rustle as Anna covered the phone and shouted something at the children.

"Oh, Bilbo. I hadn't expected you to call, uhm. I'm sorry again for yesterday, things just didn't go right and I..." she interrupted herself. "Is Frodo alright?"

"Yeah. We spent the night at the hospital but we're back home now." Frodo told her. "However...I saw that he has a lot of scratches on his arms and I know he didn't do them himself. I know your son and others have been bullying him not only at the party yesterday but also at school and I'd like you to have a word with Tom about it. This is absolutely unacceptable."

"Excuse me?" Anna seemed to take a moment to understand everything Bilbo had just said. "You're saying that my child is somehow responsible for what happened?"

"Maybe not alone. But he certainly had a part in it." Bilbo insisted. He could hear Anna take a deep breath at the other end of the line.

"Bilbo, this is going too far. First the scene in my house earlier, then your nephew manages to lock himself in and suddenly gets a panic attack and now you're blaming us for everything. Maybe, if Frodo weren't so strange you wouldn't be having those problems."

Bilbo didn't quite know what to say to that, his anger almost bubbling over. He had to hold back in order not to shout at Anna.

"Maybe, if you would teach your son to be more understanding and less arrogant and bullying, that wouldn't be needed." he finally shot back. "Just talk to him. Or I might have to take this to the school director."

He disconnected the call angrily before Anna got a chance to reply. Then he went back into the living room again to see whether Frodo was still sleeping and smiled when he saw his curled up form on the sofa, breathing evenly and looking almost happy. The blanket had fallen down and Bilbo picked it back up again, carefully spreading it over his nephew. For a moment he did nothing but watch Frodo, looking at the even rising and falling of his chest and found that, no matter how different Frodo was, he wouldn't have exchanged him for anyone else in the world.

He walked back over into the kitchen and began cooking. Since he'd made pancakes only recently he was now going to try his hand at spaghetti and self-made bolognese, one of Frodo's favourite meals. He hadn't made it in quite a while, never really having had the time to do it all from scratch, but now he felt like it would be a good thing to divert both his and Frodo's thoughts.

Frodo woke up after a while just as Bilbo had predicted and Bilbo let him help with the cooking as well as Frodo could. The bolognese turned out delicious and they were both digging in with fervour, Bilbo showing Frodo how to roll the spaghetti around his fork so they wouldn't fall off. Of course that only resulted in Frodo getting more sauce over himself and onto his things than on the spaghetti, but it was a small price to pay to hear him laugh.

"Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo asked suddenly when they were almost done with eating.

"Yes?" Bilbo divided up the rest of the spaghetti and sauce between them.

"Can you tell me of Ma and Da?"

Bilbo's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. Whatever he had expected to hear from Frodo it surely hadn't been this. Frodo had very seldomly asked after his parents; Bilbo had always thought it was because it had been too painful for him to talk about their loss.

"Of course I can." he said softly. "What would you like to know?"

Frodo looked at his plate for a moment.

"Everything." he replied then. "I know so little."

"I'm afraid I didn't know them that well either." Bilbo sighs, feeling that old familiar emotion of guilt rise up inside him again. He had never truly been much of a family person and, truth be told, had never shown much interest in the outer branches of his family tree after the death of his parents. That he'd sheltered Frodo after his distant cousin's death had been mere coincidence and he would have never expected to grow so attached to the lad and adopt him in the end.

"But I can tell you a little from when they were smaller, I guess. I also have some picture albums. Would you like to look at them with me later?"

"Yes!" Frodo seemed to be rather pleased by the idea.

"You know what we need to do beforehand, though?" Bilbo asked him with a slight grin on his face. Frodo looked at him expectantly. "Finish your food - and no, don't stuff it down, you need to chew properly or you'll have a tummy ache later - and then help me clear the table. Then we can go sit on the sofa and look at the albums. What do you say?"

Frodo nodded enthusiastically.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this chapter, we're already halfway through! Sheesh, that was fast...xD. Also tw for suicide implication in the last bit of this chapter.

_"Dwalin?" Thorin hears the door unlock and his partner stepping in, but he can't move from his current spot. It's been four years exactly since the day they first kissed, and this New Year's eve they have decided to spend alone after having had the experience of a rather wild party in the previous year. They've never been a big fan of anniversary presents or the like, but every year they think of something small they can do, a nice meal or a massage or finishing work early, if possible. Since it's the last day of the year Thorin could take the second half of it off, enabling him to spend the rest of the day making Dwalin's favourite stew which he is now stirring ardently and hoping that it won't burn._

_Dwalin, however, doesn't come right into the kitchen to greet him like he usually does when he comes home from work later than Thorin; instead Thorin can hear his steps and then a heavy thump as he lets himself fall on their sofa._

_"Dwalin?" he asks again, this time more worried. He moves the large pot from the hot stove to a cold one and covers it, then walks over to his partner. Dwalin doesn't move when he approaches, so Thorin refrains from touching him, but walks around instead until he can see his face._

_"Everything alright?" He can see that it isn't, but he has to ask anyway._

_"I lost my job." Dwalin replies, his voice flat with anger and frustration but also shame. "Our boss told us that we don't have to return next year, the company is bankrupt and they won't have the money to pay us even if they wanted to."_

_He suddenly hides his face in his hands, rubbing it. Thorin sits down next to him, reaches up after a moment and touches his hands gently, waiting for Dwalin to either withdraw or come to him and after a moment Dwalin is leaning on his side, exhaustion written in his face._

_"I'm sorry." Dwalin says, without looking at him. "I'm sorry that I ruined our anniversary. That I'm pushing all the responsibility for earning money onto you in the next months. I'm sorry that I don't...care less about it. It was a shitty job, but it was a job."_

_"Hey." Thorin kisses the side of his head before he shifts and brings their foreheads together. "Don't apologize. There's no reason to. And it's not your fault, so don't worry about the consequences. We've got enough saved up to bring us through without trouble for a while and I'm sure you'll be able to find a new job fairly soon."_

_Dwalin still looks slightly stricken, so Thorin cannot help but add. "I mean, who_ wouldn't _want to hire a man like you."_

_That, at last, gets a tiny smile from his partner and Thorin mirrors it. He knows the issue isn't out of the world and they'll have to deal with it in the future, too - but he also knows that they'll make it through this together somehow, like they always have._

_*_

A few days after the incident at the birthday party Thorin found himself once more in front of Frodo's school, this time expecting him after class. There had been no new incidences at school which was good; however Thorin wasn't sure whether it was due to the fact that Frodo had finally told him his secret and thus his hallucinations had lessened in their intensity and frequency or whether he was keeping everything he saw to himself and not trying to stand out from his classmates anymore. Whatever it was, now that he'd had a few days to think he hoped he could question Frodo a little more and find out what was lying at the heart of the boy's hallucinations. Maybe his parents' early deaths? Frodo had told him he'd only seen them once so far, but he didn't necessarily have to be speaking the truth.

The school bells rang and soon enough an entire crowd of shouting children was pouring out of the building. Thorin was leaning on a tree a little distance away, not wanting to stand obviously in the way. He guessed that Frodo would probably be one of the last one to exit the school, not necessarily wanting to walk together with his class mates. Therefore, he let the children stream past him in excited knots as they were discussing their day at school and exchanging the latest gossip about their classmates on the way home. He had been right - Frodo was one of the last ones to come out when the steady stream of children had already turned into a trickle. He was clutching the straps of his backpack tightly and looking neither left nor right as he came trudging out of the school's large doors.

"Hey." Thorin greeted him with a smile on his face. After a moment Frodo smiled back.

"How was your day at school?" Thorin asked him. Frodo shrugged, but replied eventually.

"Alright." he said. "Nobody looked strangely at me today. Mr. Sackville is nicer now that I've shown him what Bilbo and me found in the library."

"That's nice. What was it that you and your uncle found in the library?" Thorin prompted him gently although he already had an idea of what it might have been.

"The thing I told you about that Mr. Sackville didn't want to believe me? We looked it up and I was right! I took the books to him and he had to admit to me that he had been wrong. He even apologized."

"I'm glad to hear that." Thorin told him earnestly. He was happy that Bilbo seemed so supportive of his nephew - at least there would be little work required on this front, although he'd have to talk to Bilbo about Frodo in more detail soon. He wondered whether the teacher had known from the beginning that he was wrong because the material might not have been suitable for a class full of such young children or whether Frodo had genuinely proven him wrong. He guessed that it didn't matter; as long as Frodo had gotten at least some validation it would hopefully help his self-confidence as well. Thorin was ripped out of his thoughts when Frodo was pulling at his sleeve.

"Can we go back in? I need to show you something." He sounded slightly hopeful and Thorin wondered what he was intending to do.

"Yeah, of course." Frodo surprised him by not running on ahead but instead staying close by his side as they entered the school building again. A teacher who passed them was looking at them strangely and Thorin guessed it was because he had been here only once before; come to think of it, a male unknown stranger accompanying one of their pupils probably wasn't exactly an unsuspicious sight. He promised himself to talk to her later. For now, he had to follow Frodo.

Frodo in the meantime remained quiet, leading Thorin around a few corners and up several sets of stairs before he stopped. Before them was a stairwell, now empty since all the other pupils had gone home. Frodo shivered and suddenly Thorin could feel that the air had grown colder as well; he frowned.

"What is it?" he asked the boy next to him.

Frodo pointed up the stairwell, his eyes wide and stepping closer to Thorin.

"Can't you see them?"

Thorin followed his finger and for a moment he thought he saw something; but then it was gone and there was nothing but empty air where Frodo was pointing.

"No, I'm sorry." he told him gently. Frodo's shoulders slumped and he looked rather disappointed.

"What are you seeing?" Thorin wanted to know.

"They're here all the time." Frodo's voice had dropped down to a whisper and he was still trembling. "Three people. They're hanging from the ceiling. They're twitching and looking angry. Sometimes I can hear them choking."

Thorin took a deep breath.

"And you're sure that they're there? Have you ever tried touching them to see if they're real? Or telling them to go away?"

Frodo shook his head.

"No, they never listen. And what if they drag me down with them? What if I die just by touching them?" He looked terrified and Thorin knew that this wasn't an angle he could pursue right now.

"Are there more around the school?" Thorin asked him.

"Yeah." Frodo nodded. "They aren't always there but sometimes they just come out of closed rooms or walk across the corridors as if the walls aren't there. There's one of a man with a knife sticking out of him and he keeps shouting that he doesn't want to die. He's on the third floor. That's why I never go there."

"Are there any other places in the school that you don't like going to?"

"The library. There's a girl in there who keeps bleeding from her wrists." Frodo said after a moment of thought. "And the southern wing, but we have to go through there for PE, so I always try just not to look at the man with his insides hanging out."

Thorin tried to suppress the shudders running down his back, to no avail. He had rarely heard of hallucinations of such vivid detail and variety, especially in someone so young and the way Frodo looked at him made it clear that he desperately wanted Thorin to believe him. He definitely believed that what he was seeing was real and Thorin could deny what he thought he had glimpsed from the edge of his eyes or that he had suddenly grown cold.

"And at home?"

"All the time." Frodo mumbled. "There is a woman in the kitchen who has a hole in her head. And a boy sometimes comes into my bedroom with his head split open. There are others, too..." His voice trailed off.

"Frodo, listen. I'm going to set you a little exercise now. The next time you see one of these ghosts, take something. Maybe a book or a broom or something else that is large and long enough. And then try and touch them with it. Try one of those that scare you less first and see whether it goes through or it touches them. And if it goes through, maybe you can try and touch them yourself and maybe your hand will go through as well."

"Are you saying you think they aren't real?" There was both hope and disappointment in Frodo's voice.

"I'm not saying anything." Thorin replied carefully. "But just try it out, alright? Promise me?"

"Okay. I'll try. Maybe." Frodo replied. He turned around, away from what he had been seeing and straightened his shoulders slightly.

"Good." Thorin nodded. "Now...have ever thought of asking your uncle if you could change schools? Maybe another place would be better for you, especially if there are different classmates..."

"I don't know." Frodo shrugged and looked at the floor. "They'd probably think me a freak, too. Doesn't really matter where I am, does it? People are all the same."

The resignation he could hear in Frodo's voice gave Thorin a sting in his heart.

"Think about it." he told him gently. "I'm sure that if you tell your uncle about it he'll help you."

Frodo didn't reply, but at least he nodded.

"Now, do you want to go home? I can come with you for part of the way if you want me to." Thorin offered him.

"Yeah." Frodo didn't look back as he went back the way that they'd come, although once he shrank back a little and looked terrified for a moment. He caught himself quickly again, however, and Thorin guessed that whatever ghost had been that frightened him, he was either used to seeing it or trying hard to keep himself under control. He held the door open for Thorin to step through and once they were outside Thorin took a deep breath. He hadn't realised just how confined and strange he had felt inside the school building, even if the ghosts surrounding him were likely only products of Frodo's imagination.

"Alright then, let's go." he smiled down at the boy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY IT'S THE WEDDING TAPE CHAPTER THIS IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME \o/
> 
> tw meds, depression, mentions of family death

_The ride in the car is quiet. Dwalin is driving, looking ahead onto the road and the radio is playing in the background, not loud enough to be annoying but a steady stream of sound at least. It's no uncomfortable silence, but a heavy one; Thorin is looking out of the window at the grey landscape outside, the clouds and drizzle having spread a soft blanket muting all colours over everything. He sighs._

_They're on their way back from his father's place. A good week ago Thorin has received a call from the local hospital that it would be good if he came up; Thráin's condition had worsened and it was unlikely that he would survive the next few days. He had driven up with Dwalin and met his sister, her partner and their two sons there, in his father's old house. Thráin had died the next day as if he had only been waiting for his children to arrive and Thorin could not say what he was feeling. He'd had his fair share of arguments with his father, not least about his sexuality, and he knows Thráin never truly approved of his relationship with Dwalin. On the other hand, he_ had _been his father and there were good memories between them, not only bad ones - it was strange being the oldest remaining family member all of a sudden._

_All throughout the week Thorin has felt strangely numb, organising the funeral and taking care of his father's effects together with his sister._

_"I should be sad." he says all of a sudden. Dwalin looks over to him._

_"Or, well, sadder than I am." Thorin admits. "He was my father, wasn't he? And yet, a part of me is almost relieved that it's over."_

_"You're the psychiatrist here." Dwalin grins. His face grows serious almost immediately again as he adds: "But I don't think you should feel guilty. You never had the best of relationships with your father and you barely saw each other in those past few years anyway. I think it's normal to feel like you do."_

_Thorin looks down at his hands that are fiddling with the edge of his shirt. A distant part of his mind wonders just how similar he is to his father, mentally but also physically. He wonders if he has the same hands. He should know, shouldn't he? He's seen them only a week ago. Strange._

_"Thorin?" Dwalin sounds worried and with a twinge in his heart Thorin realises he's been lost in his own thoughts again. "Would you like me to stop so you can get a breath of fresh air?"_

_"Nah, it's fine, I'm just..." Thorin's voice trails off. He doesn't really know what to say and suddenly feels bad to make Dwalin worry about him like this. "I'm sorry. It's fine."_

_Dwalin heaves a sigh, knowing Thorin better than he knows himself by now._

_"We'll stop at the next service station, get some fresh air and something to eat."_

_"Alright." Thorin rubs his head. "Thank you." he adds after a moment, sending a small smile in Dwalin's direction._

_"No worries." Dwalin smiles at him again and puts his hand briefly on his knee, squeezing it gently as if to say 'I'm here. It'll be alright.'_

_*_

Thorin's thoughts were still spinning around in circles for the entirety of his way home. What had happened in the school today had been more than strange - once again it had shown him the entire depth of Frodo's problems, but it had also left him in a strangely reeling state of mind, as if he was floating, had lost all ground under his feet and didn't know which way to go anymore. Frodo had somehow managed to rip the anchor loose that had once so solidly connected him to himself and the world around him.

With a sigh he sat down on a park bench instead of going straight home to brood once more over his notes. He knew Dwalin would be angry again if he spoke to him at all that evening, but it couldn't be helped - this was far too important. He _had_ to help the boy. He couldn't possibly fail him like he had failed Azog. And yet, so far everything looked the same - similar hallucinations, although Azog had never opened up as much as Frodo had and confided in him with such honesty. Azog's parents, too, had died early, although he hadn't been as lucky as Frodo and gone through a journey with different foster homes. Thorin had been with him throughout the time of two of them alone and remembered well the fear of rejection on the boy's face that led to him talking little but breaking out into sudden bouts of fear and rage, mystifying everyone around him.

His chest began aching where the bullet had hit him and he rubbed it with a pained expression. The memory of Azog killing himself would never leave his mind, the image of it and Dwalin's terrified face burnt into his memory forever now, assaulting him at random moments and leaving him reeling. Maybe that was why he was so obsessed by this case that he seemed to forget everything around him - that he never wanted to see such a sight again. The notion that one day Frodo might end up like that terrified him more than anything else.

He look down at his notes again, not noticing how the evening came on and the air around him slowly cooled down, his mind fervently trying to make sense of what he had seen and heard and thinking about new ways with which to help Frodo. He cursed when he looked up again and saw the light was fading; he hadn't meant to stay away for so long. He should better try and get home as fast as possible. Dwalin would be worried.

As he entered their house he was immediately drawn by the sound of the television from the living room. Dwalin often liked to have it on in the background when he was cooking, however, there were no delicious smells wafting out from the kitchen like usual when his partner was the one making dinner. Thorin frowned when he entered the living room - he had expected Dwalin to be there since the television was running, but he there was nobody in sight. Another bottle of whiskey was on the table again, opened and far too empty for Thorin's taste. He could see a half empty bowl of cat food on the floor too, away from its usual place in the kitchen and frowned. Nat herself was nowhere to be seen, but Thorin didn't worry too much about her; she always came and went as she pleased.

It took him a moment to realise what exactly it was that was running on the TV and when he did he sank back into the cushions of the sofa, feeling a smile spread on his face despite all the worry in his heart.

Dís' face was in the foreground of the image on the screen, a number of people in festive clothing in the back. She was smiling widely, a large blue flower in her dyed hair and kept waving a glass of champagne back and forth.

"Now, listen here." she said loudly, obviously tipsy already. Whoever was holding the camera (Thorin guessed probably Fíli) was trying to suppress their laughter.

"This one's for you, Dwalin. I hope you know what you're doing. You're about to marry the most stubborn, insecure and ridiculous man I know. But he's also the kindest, gentlest and most honourable man I know and the only brother I have left. And he really loves you. So don't break his heart, you hear me? Be good to him."

Her voice was quivering now and Thorin felt his smile grow.

"Be good to him." she repeated. "Or I'll personally come over and kick you in the balls."

She tried a glare that would have looked menacing hadn't she also kept smiling the whole time. The camera shook and there were some noises in the background before it turned and revealed Fíli's grinning face, his brother's somewhere behind him. Fíli was still chuckling at his mother's words, his hair unkempt and wild. Every day he saw him so happy Thorin was grateful that Dís'd had little trouble when her son had confessed that he was a boy rather than the girl he had been labelled as before. He knew well that not every family was so kind or understanding. Kíli, in contrast, was still overly energetic eight year old in the video, grinning wildly and waving behind his older brother. For a moment he reminded Thorin painfully of Frodo, or rather what Frodo should be like.

"Yeah! Don't forget, he's our favourite uncle!" Fíli added. "We'll come after you if you hurt him!"

Behind him, Kíli dutifully echoed his brother's sentiments. The camera shook again and went back to Dís' face.

"And now on to you, dearest brother mine." She took another sip from her champagne and grinned. "I still remember how you told me about Dwalin and how utterly besotted you looked back then already. You are one hell of a lucky man to have found him, don't you ever dare to forget that. I'm sure Frerin'd agree with me when I'm telling you not to fuck this one up. So don't."

Suddenly there were tears in her eyes and she pulled out a tissue, dabbing away at her face with it.

"I wish you two all the happiness in the world." she said quietly, then waving at the camera for Fíli to take it away from her face as she looked like she was about to tear up. Fíli brought it back to his own face before he gave a thumbs up and shifted it a little further to show Balin's back as he was talking to Bofur, one of Dwalin's oldest friends.

"Oy, Balin, got anything to add?" he shouted in his direction.

Balin said something to Bofur and turned around, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"Hm?"

"Mum just told Dwalin and Thorin a bunch of stuff on camera. Anything you want to say?"

"Uhm." Balin seemed to think for a moment before he straightened his bow tie and came closer to look straight into the camera.

"Little brother, I never thought the moment would come, but here we are - it looks like you're about to marry a very decent man and I'm happy for you both. I hope it will last for a long time."

He looked over to where Fíli was presumably standing. The camera went back to Fíli's face who was shaking his head, trying to give the impression of being rather disappointed.

"Booooring." he mouthed quietly. The answering frown on Balin's face had apparently been worth it.

For a while Thorin was swimming in memories of one of the happiest days in his life. When he closed his eyes he could still remember it all, the feeling of Dwalin's hands on his when he had put the ring on his finger, the scratching of his beard when they kissed, the sounds of merriment around them from both of their families. Only the noise of running water ripped him out of it again and he frowned. Why would Dwalin switch on the TV and then walk away to get a shower? He stood up and made his way upstairs, trying to push away the memories of the night when Azog had come and changed their lives so fundamentally that assaulted him every time he came up here.

Within moments he was in the bathroom, unable to see Dwalin who was taking a shower around the corner. Thorin forced himself to remember the happier times that had taken place here, of moments spent together under the shower until their skin had become wrinkly and the water cold and they stumbled out laughing and throwing towels at each other.

Something caught his gaze from the corner of his eyes - one of the doors of the little cupboard over their sink was standing open. He frowned and raised his hand to close it before he saw a little package of pills there he couldn't remember seeing before. He looked more closely and felt his heart clench when he could read the label on the package. Mirtazapine. Anti-depressants.

"Dwalin." he said so quietly that it was probably impossible for his partner to hear. "What are we doing wrong?"


	14. Chapter 14

_Thorin is in his work room and preparing the sessions for the next day when Dwalin knocks on the door. He turns around with a frown that turns into a smile when he sees Dwalin grinning widely._

_"Sorry for disturbing you." Dwalin says. They both have an agreement that Thorin gets to work undisturbed when he is at home, but in turn he will set himself an alarm and will stop working once it goes off. Otherwise he would work late into the night and Dwalin would come in every few minutes to try and drag him away. "But I thought you might want to know right away."_

_"Nah, it's fine. I was stuck on something anyway." There is no way for Thorin to be angry with Dwalin when he looks this happy. He tries to think of what might have happened and quickly remembers their conversation from this morning. "Did the company in London call you back?"_

_"They did." Dwalin's grin is now so wide that Thorin half fears for the wellbeing of his facial muscles. He already knows what he's going to say next. "I got the job."_

_"Congratulations!" Thorin stands up and covers the distance between them with a few quick steps before hugging his partner and pressing a kiss on his lips. It's the first truly good bit of news they've had this year - Dwalin has been unemployed for more than eight months and in April his father had died. Finally there seems to be some light at the horizon._

_"I'm so happy for you." Thorin adds and laughs when he sees Dwalin's eyes sparkling. The question of money hadn't even been the worst for his partner - it was simply the fact that he didn't have anything to do and Dwalin wasn't exactly the type to sit around at home and do nothing. The volunteering activities with the local city council had helped, but it still hadn't been much. "So, we are moving to London then?"_

_Dwalin's face goes serious for a moment._

_"Are you still sure about that?" he asks hesitantly. "I mean, you've built up your reputation here and a solid base of patients who trust you and-"_

_Thorin puts his finger on Dwalin's lips and shushes him gently._

_"Yes, I am. I've thought and we've talked about it a lot. London isn't exactly a small city; I'm sure I'll be able to find new patients there very soon and I already know some doctors there from student times for referrals. Also, Dáin is perfectly capable of handling the patients I'm leaving behind here, trust me. And I surely won't have you turn into a weekend commuter and not see you for an entire working week before you come back!"_

_At his last words Dwalin is already smiling again, leaning forwards to steal another kiss from him, carding his hands through Thorin's hair as he does so and drawing a satisfied little groan from him._

_"Thank you." he says quietly and squeezes Thorin tightly. Thorin's heart is laughing as he returns the embrace._

_"There's nothing to thank me for." he replies. "Now, do you want to go out and celebrate?"_

*

As promised, Bilbo had shown Frodo the old albums with the pictures from his parents when Frodo had been naught but a small baby. Bilbo had kept them and other small memorabilia from Frodo's parents before their flat had been cleaned out. He hadn't foreseen how much he enjoyed looking through all the old boxes in the attic and quickly it emerged that there was a lot more hidden up there than he initially remembered. Soon it turned out that it would take them a lot longer than just one evening to sort and look through everything and Bilbo happily complied when Frodo asked him if they could have a look through the boxes together. Sometimes, however, he was just far too tired to do so in the evenings and let Frodo do the work instead who suddenly seemed to have endless energy when it came to making his way through the contents of the boxes.

This night was no different - Bilbo was rather exhausted after the long day he'd had and an argument with Frodo earlier before school that morning when his nephew had thrown a tantrum because the wrong cheese was on his bread. Bilbo had almost forgotten how tiring and stubborn a child his age could be at times.

"Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo peered over the edge of the sofa that Frodo was sitting and reading a book on.

"Hm?" Bilbo looked up.

"Are you still angry with me?" Frodo sounded rather stricken. Bilbo sighed.

"Frodo, come here." he said gently and padded the sofa next to him. Frodo came around and over to him, sitting down. Bilbo made no movement to touch him yet - if his nephew wanted to cuddle, he would do so. He would never force any physical affection on him.

"You know, sometimes people just don't have the same opinion." He wished they could have had this talk at a different time, but it was clear that it needed to happen now. "Sometimes you think what I say is stupid, right? And sometimes I don't agree with what you're saying either. And so we shout at each other and are angry and maybe we don't even want to see each other for a while. But that's normal. It will happen again. It doesn't mean that I hate you or anything like that, alright? And no, I'm not angry anymore now."

"Okay." Frodo nodded and then inched closer to him on the sofa. Bilbo smiled and put his arm around him when Frodo began snuggling into his side. After a while Bilbo noticed that he kept turning something over and over in his fingers.

"Did you find that in one of the boxes?" he asked with a nod at the thing in Frodo's hands.

"Yeah." Frodo held it up so that Bilbo could see it more clearly. It was a little fossil of a mussel or snail, he couldn't quite tell.

"I'm not sure, but I think I gave it to them. I can barely remember because I was so little, but I think I collected it when we went on holiday somewhere..." Frodo's voice trailed off. Bilbo didn't contradict him - it was indeed quite unlikely that he would remember something from when he had been this young, but who knew.

"That's lovely." he smiled down at Frodo who was still keeping a firm hold around the little fossil so that he wouldn't lose it. With a look at the watch on his wrist he added: "And shouldn't you be going to bed very soon, too?"

"Uhm." Frodo's shuffling told Bilbo that he was right.

"Off to bed with you." Bilbo grinned. "You can continue unpacking tomorrow."

"Nooooo, just ten more minutes, Uncle Bilbo, I promise I'll go to bed then..."

"No, no ten minutes. Off to bed with you. Now." Bilbo stayed form, knowing they wouldn't be getting anywhere otherwise.

Frodo pouted but at least he didn't throw another tantrum like he had done before. However, he made considerably more noise on his way to the bathroom than necessary, banging doors and stomping on the ground whilst walking. Bilbo sighed, but remained quiet for the moment. Sure enough, Frodo quieted down quickly - almost too quickly if Bilbo was concerned.

When he came to his bedside about ten minutes later Frodo had drawn up the blanket to his chin and Bilbo noticed how cold it seemed to be in the room despite him having switched on the heating earlier. Frodo was trembling slightly, but didn't want to say what was wrong and so Bilbo promised to sit with him for a while until he had calmed down again. He watched as his nephew slowly fell asleep and only when he was sure that Frodo didn't need him anymore he stood up and left the room quietly.

He went to bed not that much later himself - as exhausted as he was from the day he'd had he soon found that he was too tired to truly concentrate on anything and dropped off into troubled sleep not long after he had switched off the lights on his nightstand.

He was dreaming of Anna again at first, of her words that were still running around in his head and whose echo he couldn't seem to be able to shake off. He shouted at her to be quiet, but Anna kept screaming and suddenly she was holding Frodo's hand.

'You can never do well by him!' The words cut deeply into his soul and Bilbo shouted something back although he could not have said what it was. He reached out with his hand towards Frodo but suddenly the boy was screaming again, screaming like he had when he had been locked into the wardrobe.

"Frodo, no!" Bilbo shouted, trying to calm him down, to take him into his arms and make everything that frightened him go away. But Frodo just shook his head, never stopping his scream and stepped away from him even as the room around them dissolved and blackness started creeping in, beginning to tear at the edge of the dream.

"Frodo, come to me! Don't go in there! No!" Bilbo shouted again, reaching out to grab his nephew and protect him from the encroaching darkness. However, all his efforts were for naught and Frodo stepped back, dissolving within minutes until no trace of him was left.

"FRODO!" Bilbo called out for him one last time before he could feel the darkness swallowing him up, too, until he felt like his entire being was slowly being dismantled until the only thing left to feel was cold.

"Uncle Bilbo!" Someone was shaking him and Bilbo recognised Frodo's voice. Strange, hadn't he disappeared just moments ago?

"Uncle Bilbo, wake up!" The shaking grew stronger and suddenly Bilbo was back in his bedroom, eyes wide and Frodo's worried face above him. He felt with his hands for the light by the bedside and switched it on, only now beginning to breathe a little easier. It took him a moment to notice that Frodo was looking utterly terrified, his face white like a bed sheet

"Frodo, is everything alright?" His voice was raspy and he reached to the glass of water he always kept next to his bed. Frodo shook his head and Bilbo noticed that he was shaking like a leaf. He reached out to touch Frodo's hands - and drew them back as if he had burnt himself, although the opposite was the case.

"Frodo, you're icy cold!" he exclaimed. "What happened? Did you have a nightmare?"

"I don't know." Frodo replied, his voice high-pitched and clearly scared. Bilbo thought that it had probably been quite frightening for him to see his uncle having such a strong nightmare as well. For a child like Frodo, it was always the adults they looked up to and adults didn't get scared so easily.

"Hey." Bilbo sat up and looked at his nephew. "It's alright. It was just a dream. Nothing to be scared of. Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight for a bit until you're less scared?"

Frodo nodded and immediately climbed up onto the large bed next to Bilbo. Bilbo lifted his arm and Frodo snug in under his bedcovers close to him. It took him a while to relax, but Bilbo could feel that he was slowly getting warm again when Frodo closed his eyes with a little sigh, remaining pressed firmly to his side.

"Better?" Bilbo asked him softly.

"Mhm." Frodo replied and Bilbo sighed, ruffling his hair briefly. The echoes of his dream were still haunting his mind. He told himself that everything was indeed alright, just like he had told Frodo before. Frodo was here now, safely with him and whatever spectres were haunting his dreams had no entry here.

He closed his eyes again, dropping off into exhausted sleep after a while. This time, his dreams remained quiet.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sad. :(

_"Are you really sure we'll be able to afford this?" Dwalin says, looking around sceptically. The place that they are standing in is beautiful, of that there's no doubt - it's the small half of a house about a good half an hour outside of London at the edges of Greenwich with two floors, a separate small kitchen and living room downstairs and a bathroom and bedroom upstairs plus a small room that Thorin plans to use as a workroom for when he has to work at home._

_"I did the calculations at least three times." Thorin laughs. "We can. At least if we don't have a car anymore and don't splurge on every opportunity."_

_"Not sure I can keep from splurging." Dwalin grins cheekily and puts his hand on Thorin's hips. Thorin chuckles and presses a quick kiss on his throat._

_"Not_ that _kind of splurging." he rebukes him with a laugh._

_"Oh, then I'm relieved." Dwalin acts as if he's just had a rock falling off his heart and Thorin elbows him gently in the ribs._

_"You're such a clown."_

_"Mhm." Dwalin murmurs. "Your very own special private clown."_

_Thorin laughs again, rolling his eyes._

_"That's true." he replies and can't help but kiss him again. Dwalin makes a sound deep in his throat and draws him closer, but after a while Thorin pushes him away again, although it's with quite some reluctance._

_"You_ do _know that the agent and the landlord are waiting upstairs with the tenancy agreement to sign." he reminds him and Dwalin sighs, pouting a little. Thorin is right, of course, and after a last look at the rooms downstairs and agreeing on how nice they are they make their way upstairs to meet their new landlord and sign all the papers that will make the flat their new home starting with the coming month._

_It has been hard to find the right housing in London, harder than Thorin'd initially thought; since the turnover was so fast and most flats were so expensive he'd had to take two short holidays to be able to come down with Dwalin and view them all. Finally they found something that they had both liked and the landlord seemed to be fine with them moving in - he assured them that he had a gay brother himself and thus didn't mind a bit to have a gay couple living in his property. They hadn't been that lucky with all the other flats they'd looked at and so Thorin feels rather happy that they have managed to find this place._

_They sign the papers and with a smile, the agent hands them the keys to the flat. He and the landlord depart shortly after, leaving Dwalin and Thorin alone for a moment to already do some preliminary planning of what they are going to do with the rooms once they move in. Of course they begin arguing about it only moments after until they both break out into laughter._

_"It's gonna be beautiful." Dwalin smiles._

_"Yes." Thorin replies. It definitely will be._

*

Thorin stood just behind the closed door of his and Dwalin's home, staring sightlessly into the darkness ahead. If Dwalin had heard him coming in, he had given no sign of it; Thorin could hear him rustling in the living room, but for some reason he was reluctant to enter, simply standing in the dark of their hallway and not doing anything instead.

He had met Frodo a few more times since the last and the boy had told him how he was slowly rediscovering old family pictures and memories together with his uncle, something that Thorin had greatly approved of. Frodo was still firmly convinced that he was seeing ghosts, always telling Thorin about the encounters when he asked after them. He had apparently tried Thorin's suggestion of taking a book and, although he had been too scared to touch the ghosts themselves, at least throw it at them. However, the ghosts had stepped aside or disappeared before whatever Frodo had thrown had been able to hit them. Thorin wrought the promise from him to try again, this time whilst actually holding whatever he would use to touch the ghosts he was imagining with; he still hoped that it would help Frodo realise that what he was seeing wasn't real. For now, however, they seemed to be stuck and he was slowly running out of ideas of what else he could do.

It was funny how he was usually so good at his job and yet so unable to analyse or even deal with his own emotions. It seemed that whatever it was between him and Dwalin, it followed rules entirely of its own and he could not count on his mind to stay calm whenever his husband was involved. And somehow, everything had become different now. They'd had their bad days before the incident, yes - they had argued from time to time, had shouted at each other, banged doors or angrily left the house, boiling with frustration and disappointment. But they had always worked it out, had listened to each other, had talked, found out what was wrong and tried to fix it. And in the end, there had been far more good days that Thorin still remembered with a smile on his lips than bad ones. Now, however...it seemed like they had somehow forgotten how to talk, that Dwalin wasn't even seeing him and that there was something between them that they somehow couldn't cross.

Suddenly the sound of Dwalin's voice ripped him out of his thoughts, just as Nat meowed and he could see her shape coming out of the kitchen and wandering into Dwalin's direction.

"Dís?" Dwalin's voice sounded rough and exhausted, as if he had been screaming and Thorin froze in his movement of stepping forward and to the right into their living room.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." Dwalin said the words but it was clear that he was anything but. He contradicted himself immediately in the next sentence.

"It's just that I-" his voice broke and Thorin frowned. He had rarely heard his husband like this. Even though Dwalin seldomly hid his feelings, it was unusual for him to be this emotional. "I don't think I can stand this anymore. I need to get out. Could I come over to yours and-"

Thorin didn't even hear the rest as he felt his insides turn to ice. His hand was clenching the table next to him so firmly that he half thought the wood would break off. He balled his other into a fist and slammed it against the wall, once, twice, until he could feel his knuckles beginning to hurt.

When Dwalin came around the corner, phone still in hand and a frown of confusion on his face, he was already gone.

*

The next day was grey and cold, as if winter had come back for one last intermezzo. Thorin thought that it was more than fitting that it would be like this; his insides felt as desolate as the day itself as he trudged along outside, hands deep in the pockets of his coat. He hadn't returned home the previous night, not trusting himself to not flip out and beginning to shout at Dwalin. He was longing for his partner's touch now, for the softness of his calloused hands and the taste of his lips and wondered if they would ever be able to go back to how they had once been. He would have to do the first step, however - what had happened last night had shown him that he had let it go on for too long, that he could not delay it any longer.

Thorin had kept telling himself that he would right things with Dwalin once he had dealt with Frodo's case or at least found a good path to put the boy on. He had thought that he could take some time off work afterwards, go on a holiday with his husband, maybe back to Scotland to revisit the places they had went to on their first journey together. Now, however, he saw all of those things swimming away from them and found himself grasping after everything they'd had, trying to hold it all together and not let it go. As much as it pained him, he had to pull the emergency break.

Now he was waiting for Frodo as he was coming out of school again. He was talking little whilst the boy kept chatting on about his day, telling him how he had even been cast in the role of future King Arthur in a play his class was putting on, but soon Frodo fell silent, too, when he noticed that Thorin seemed to be deeply lost inside his thoughts.

"Frodo, would you like to sit down with me for a moment? I need to tell you something important." Thorin asked him quietly and nodded to a bench in the little park they were currently walking through. They sat down and Frodo looked up at him expectantly. Thorin found it hard to keep his resolve as he was looking into the boy's bright blue eyes.

"Remember how I told you that my husband and me don't talk anymore? I want to be able to be happy with him again. But I cannot do that as long as I am treating you."

Frodo's lips began to tremble and Thorin had to look away as he could see his eyes misting over.

"No..."

"Frodo, I'm sorry." Thorin had rarely felt so helpless. He had grown to care a lot for the boy, but it would be best for all of them if he would give the treatment over to someone else. "But I just haven't paid enough attention to my family recently and bad things happen when you do that. I promise you I'll find someone else for you - I know a few wonderful doctors and I'm sure they'll be able to help you much better than I ever could.'"

"But I-" Frodo swallowed, trying to stifle the sobs that were coming out of him now. "I don't want to be treated by anybody else. You are the only one who can help me. I _know_ it."

Thorin shook his head, feeling his own sadness welling up inside him. He knew he had to stay firm, but it was the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do. He remembered how Azog's case had ended after he'd had to give up on it and how he had sworn that the same thing would never happen to him again. But Dwalin...Dwalin was more important. Without him, his own life and mind would be far too unstable to be able to continue treating any of his patients. No, he had to fix what had gone wrong, then he could think about others again.

"Maybe I can one day come back and treat you again." he said gently. "But not right now. I will find somebody else who can instead and they will be able to help you, I'm sure."

"I-" Frodo was crying for good now and Thorin didn't quite know what else to do to console him - he saw a few people staring from the other side of the road and thought belatedly that he probably should have taken the meeting inside somewhere. At least there weren't that many people out at the moment.

"But you believe me, don't you?" Frodo finally asked, his voice high and desperate. Thorin stared down at his own hands, subconsciously rubbing the edge of his coat's fabric with his fingers.

"You do, right?" Frodo repeated, a little more loudly.

"Frodo..." Thorin said helplessly. He looked up at Frodo's tear-stained face and then away again when he couldn't bear the sadness in the boy's gaze anymore. "I don't know how to answer that."

Frodo was staring at him wide-eyed, disbelief warring with fear and grief in his face. Thorin remembered the same expression from Azog's face when he had last seen him as a boy, years before the shooting had happened. It had hurt him as much back then as it did now.

"But...how can you help me if you don't believe me?" Frodo asked, his helplessness and disappointment sharp as glass as they were cutting into Thorin's heart.

"I can't." Thorin said quietly, but firmly. "I'm so sorry, Frodo. I wish it would be different, I really do. But I can't."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busy day today, so you'll get the chapter earlier than usual! \o/

_The clock chimes midnight and Dwalin and Thorin smile at each other as they are standing at their window and looking out into the heavily clouded London sky that is now beginning to be lit up by fireworks, the new year 2005 only a few seconds old._

_"Happy New Year." Thorin grins and lifts his glass of sparkly wine to toast Dwalin with it. Dwalin smiles back and their glasses clink softly when they meet before they both take a sip. They have both decided that they wanted to spend this New Year's Eve on their own, just like last year - maybe it's because they are getting older or maybe it's simply the stress of the past few months that's slowly falling off of them._

_"Let's hope it's better than the last one." Dwalin murmurs._

_"Yeah. Although the end wasn't too bad." Thorin points out and Dwalin chuckles, murmuring his agreement as he turns around to kiss him._

_"I'm glad we moved here." Dwalin says once they part again and Thorin nods in reply. The change has done both of them good - Thorin feels freer now than he has at the old place and he knows it is similar for Dwalin. It's been a new beginning in a way for both of them, the distance not so much defined by physical miles (Essex is, after all, not all that far from London), but by a more emotional count instead. He is glad that he's still in contact with his sister and they visit each other as often as they can, but the old family home has been sold now and there is nothing that reminds him of the past anymore unless he chooses to deliberately pull out those memories of his brother, mother and father with certain phrases and items._

_Just as they close in for another kiss, Dwalin's mobile starts ringing at the same time as their house phone. Thorin laughs and goes to get the call from his sister whereas Dwalin is talking to his brother on his own phone, both of them exchanging their best wishes for the New Year and, in Thorin's case, trying not to flinch when his nephews suddenly start shouting their greetings rather loudly from the other end of the phone. Dís laughs and finally manages to shoo them away so she can talk to her brother again._

_"I hope the next year will be better for all of us." she sighs and Thorin agrees with her, knowing that she and her partner Víli have had quite a few unpleasant things to deal with this year as well. "Give all my love to Dwalin and tell him that he still has to give me back those George RR Martin books he borrowed last year, or I'll come and hunt him down."_

_"I'll make sure to relay the message." Thorin laughs. "Give me best wishes to Víli, too. I'll call you again soon."_

_Dwalin is already done with talking to Balin when Thorin finally puts the house phone down as well. They grin at each other and hand over the messages they have received from their siblings whilst settling on the sofa, Dwalin putting his head on Thorin's shoulder with a satisfied sigh. They keep watching the last remnants of the fireworks through their window and Thorin feels a deep feeling of peace spread inside him. Everything is well again._

_*_

When Thorin returned home this time, Dwalin wasn't there. He decided to settle down in his living room and wait for his partner's to come back from work, mulling over what he was going to say to him. He didn't even know where to start - an apology first, or that he had dropped Frodo's case and was going to take some time off with him now? Or he could make one of Dwalin's favourites for dinner and begin apologizing that way. After all, there was no better basis for reconciliation than a nice meal. Yes, that might be a good idea. He sighed and stretched, looking at the clock to discern how much time he had left until he would have to start making dinner. There was still time and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find his inner calm again, even as he heard the Nat rustling in the kitchen, hoping the cat wouldn't create any disorder.

Of course, his thoughts immediately returned to what Frodo had told him - _How can you help me if you don't believe me?_ The rational part of his mind still refused to even consider the notion that what Frodo had told him might be true. There was a tiny piece of his brain, however, that remembered the shivers he had felt on the back of his neck in the school when Frodo had told him about the ghosts, the fact that Frodo had somehow known about both the school's and his teacher's past and the thing he'd thought he'd seen out of the corner of his eyes there.

Frodo's words had also stirred up another memory deeper inside him, memories he had sought to forget but that would nonetheless always be there. Frodo wasn't the first patient whom he'd had to leave and who had desperately begged him to just believe what he was saying - Azog had been almost exactly the same, although more violent and Thorin remembered how helpless he had felt in the days after he had last seen the boy. He'd never felt more of a failure than back then. Those memories, however, brought back others - of the sessions he'd had with Azog and suddenly he frowned. He remembered a particular one that had left him especially puzzled - he had gone out of the room for only a few moments to get himself a coffee. Azog had been calm before he'd left, but when he had returned, the boy had been trembling and shivering in his seat, even though Thorin had never been able to find out what had happened in the mean time.

With Azog's and his foster parents' consent he had recorded most of his sessions with the boy so he could go over them again in his spare time. He'd preferred a tape recorder in contrast to the new digital devices back then and knew he must still have several boxes full of tapes somewhere in the flat, although he couldn't quite remember where. He thought to look in the basement first, but found to his surprise that the door was locked. Frowning, he gave up trying to open it and made his way into his little workroom instead that he hadn't used in a while.

Thorin frowned again when he saw the state of disorder that the room was in, with dust on every surface and some papers strewn about from the last time he had worked here. It was strange; Dwalin was normally rather keen on keeping their home clean and although they divided household chores equally amongst them, it was usually his partner who did all the dusting. With a sigh he looked around the familiar place where he had been for so long and finally he caught sight of a number of boxes on the shelf.

He found the right one relatively fast, although looking at the tapes of other children made him pause in his movements and smile a little. He still remembered almost every single child he had ever worked with and often enough he wondered what had become of some of them. Even though he had accompanied some of them for many years, he usually saw very little of them once his part in their lives was over and every time he received a letter or a postcard from them it made him rather happy. He had kept all those letters on the wall next to his desk and looking at them now filled him with a strange sense of pride.

His old, much-used tape recorder was still on the table and he took out the tape to put it in and listen to it. With a smile he remembered how Dwalin had always teased him mercilessly about still using the old technology from time to time - they'd always wanted to take a day off and spend it digitising all the old tapes but, like with so many things, they had ultimately never found the time to do so. Thorin fast forwarded the first few parts the he already knew by heart - a calm Azog and their usual talks about how his family was and how school was going. He went back to normal playback speed the moment shortly before he left the room.

"Azog, do you mind if I go out and get a coffee?" His voice on the tape sounded a little younger than now and Thorin cringed involuntarily. He had always hated listening to himself talk.

"No, it's fine." Azog sounded calm and collected.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" There was no reply to Thorin's question but a soft rustling sound that suggested that Azog was probably shaking his head.

There was silence on the tape after Thorin had left, only a few background sounds until Azog suddenly began to whimper and Thorin returned not long after, only to find a terrified Azog in his seat. He could also hear himself say something about how it had grown noticeably colder in the room and turning up the heating. Thorin frowned - whatever had upset Azog so much must have happened in those few minutes since he had been gone and before the boy had begun to whimper. He reached out and rewound the tape to the moment where he stood up and left. Turning up the volume a little higher, he listed with a concentrated frown on his face.

This time he could hear something apart from Azog's suddenly panicked breathing, just a few moments before - a quiet whisper in the air, like the rustling of leaves in the autumn winter, but more succinct. Thorin frowned and rewound the tape again before turning up the volume to the maximum. There it was again and this time it was a lot more easily to pick up - a quiet voice in the background that was very clearly not an artefact of the tape or being made by Azog. The words were unfamiliar to Thorin and it took him a while until he noticed that it would likely be a different language than English. After a few more reruns he finally figured what it was - German, most likely.

He went over to his bookshelf and pulled out one of his old dictionaries, although for some reason he found it hard to hold in his hands. He'd had a few German lessons when he was still back in school but forgotten the vast majority of it by now. But he thought he had discerned that there was only one word which was being repeated over and over again - "Hilfe!". Some part of himself wasn't even surprised when he discovered that the meaning of the word was 'help'.

Thorin sat down on his chair again an buried his face in his hands. His slight optimism from earlier when he had resolved to cook dinner for Dwalin and finally have things out between them had completely vanished; instead he was once again caught between his work and private life. He didn't even know exactly what it was that had shifted inside him, but whatever he had just heard on the tape had been real, and no figment of his own imagination. A distant part of his mind was already writing papers and preparing talks for conferences, but the largest one of them was going back to Frodo.

The boy had been right.

There _were_ ghosts. And they were clearly haunting him.

How could he step away from such a case now? Now that he had finally found out that Frodo was speaking the truth? He felt it was more important than ever now that he tried and help him. Thorin rubbed his forehead and sighed. What should he do?


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and Thorin are the ONLY people who get the idea to get married from Dwalin making a dickjoke. HE.

_They are arguing about the colour of their living room. Again. Thorin feels like someone has catapulted him several years back into the past and they are back in his old flat, trying to decide on how to decorate it and getting into one argument after another. By now these argument have almost become a routine welcomed by the two of them and neither of them is serious when they make more and more ridiculous propositions each time._

_"Okay. What about purple? With green dots." Thorin turns to Dwalin, a wide grin on his face. His partner tries hard to stay serious, but he isn't entirely successful. Thorin can see the corners of his lips quivering with suppressed laughter when he answers._

_"No way. Blue. With huge red circles." he throws back at Thorin, almost a mirror the argument they'd had long ago when Dwalin first moved in with him. Thorin laughs out loud and pretends to whack him over the head with the rolled up newspaper in his hand._

_"You're not taking me seriously." he pouts. "No dinner for you tonight."_

_Dwalin immediately puts on his best puppy eyes before he starts laughing, too._

_"I thought we were going to order pizza anyway."_

_"Well, then I'll just have to eat it all by myself." Thorin grins back._

_"You wouldn't_ dare _." Dwalin inches closer to him on the sofa, obviously trying to convince his partner with different measures. "You love me far too much to withhold pizza from me. Especially because in that case I might have to withhold other things."_

_He pats his crotch with such a meaningful expression that Thorin can't help but burst into laughter again._

_"Yeah, not sure how I'll_ ever _survive without that." he says and rolls his eyes at the same time which earns him an elbow in the ribs from Dwalin. After a moment he cocks his head and adds: "We're totally acting like an old married couple, have you ever realised that?"_

_Dwalin grins._

_"Are we?" he asks back. "Maybe we should get married then."_

_Thorin doesn't even register the words at first because they are said with the same lightness as the rest of the conversation. He isn't quite sure whether he's heard correctly or whether Dwalin is just joking. Suddenly, his heart is beating a little faster even though he manages to keep the same levity in his expression and voice. He decides to go all out._

_"Was that a marriage proposal?" He raises his brows and looks at Dwalin._

_"I don't know." Dwalin shrugs, but Thorin can see the sudden tension lurking beneath his movements. "What would your answer be in the hypothetical case it was one?"_

_"Yes." Thorin says without hesitation, surprised by himself. "Let's get married."_

_"You are serious?" Dwalin's hands are shaking ever so slightly as they are carding themselves through Thorin's hair. Thorin grins and reaches over to pull him in for a kiss._

_"Of course I am, you dolt." He clears his throat, wondering if he should go down to one knee or something. His own heart is suddenly beating wildly in his chest. Aren't marriage proposals supposed to be elaborately planned and romantic normally? He rips off a strip of newspaper, rolls it up and turns it into a ring, holding it out towards Dwalin, trying to sound overly cliché with his passion. "Will you marry me?"_

_Dwalin's eyes are sparkling when he accepts the 'ring'._

_"Yes." He bends over to kiss Thorin. "Yes, I will."_

_*_

In the end, it hadn't really been a decision at all - Thorin had left the house again with a silent vow to himself that he would make up for it on the morrow. Only one more day, one more day to do everything he could for Frodo and then set right the things between him and Dwalin. He just had to hope that they could hold things together for that one day. Surely Dwalin would not leave so soon. Thorin made his way to Bilbo's and his uncle's house as fast as he could, keen to talk to the boy again and give him back some hope, thinking about a solution for his problem together.

On his way Thorin wondered what the ghosts might be wanting and how they had managed to manifest - was it strong emotions that kept them bound to this earth? Or the need to take revenge, to fulfil a promise to someone? Whatever it was, there was only one way to find out - somehow, Frodo would have to talk to them and learn what it was that they wanted on this earth or find a method to get rid of them. For a moment Thorin wished he were able to see them, too and he wondered what it was that enabled Frodo to see them in the first place - had it been the shock of his parents' deaths? Or was it some kind of genetic mutation that he'd had since he was born? In time Thorin hoped that he would be able to answer all those question. For now, however, it was important that he would be able to help Frodo first.

He stopped for a moment and felt the cold wind on his face. For some reason it seemed to take a long time for spring to arrive this year; he seemed to feel perpetually cold, no matter what he was doing. Maybe he would warm up again once everything had returned to normal. He missed Dwalin's warmth beside him, now more than ever - his husband was almost like a furnace and Thorin, who tended to get cold a lot more quickly, often huddled up close to him especially in winter to enjoy his warmth. Dwalin tended to make a rather high-pitched shriek whenever Thorin put his icy hands on his bare skin and he had to admit that he'd done it more than one time just to annoy his husband. He smiled to himself when he remembered those moments and Dwalin's complaints. He would give a lot to hear those again instead of the silence that seemed to have settled between them.

Thorin shook his head, trying to look forward instead of back and concentrate on the task at hand. A short time later he finally found himself inside Frodo's and Bilbo's house, Frodo sitting on the couch next to him and Bilbo at work in his little work room. The relief on Frodo's face had been palpable when he had seen that Thorin had returned.

"Frodo, I have to apologize." Thorin told him earnestly. "I did not believe what you were saying to me but now I do."

"You believe me?" Frodo's eyes were wide, as if he wasn't quite sure that he had heard correctly or that Thorin was telling the truth. "You truly believe me? That I can see dead people?"

"Yes I do." Thorin gave him a smile. Frodo was still caught in utter disbelief and it hurt Thorin to see how little the boy still seemed to be able to trust other people. Frodo stared at him for a while longer before he somehow seemed to deflate and leaned back against the backrest of the sofa.

"Thank you." he whispered, finally, and Thorin couldn't help but smile again. At the same time he felt a sting in his heart when he thought of Azog and how he had never even considered that whatever scared the boy might be more than just a hallucination. He silently asked for forgiveness from the dead and wished he could turn back the time to set things right again. He wondered about all the things Azog could have told him had he only believed him and where they might both be by now had he just been a little more open or thorough when listening to the tapes again and making notes.

"You will have to tell me more about them, however." Thorin told Frodo. "Maybe, once I understand more about them, we can actually try to see what they want so we can get rid of them. What else is there that you can tell me about them?"

Frodo looked both helpless and hopeful at his words. He began to play with the edge of his shirt between his hands, a sure sign that he was nervous.

"I'm not sure. They cannot see each other. It gets very cold when they are upset. Sometimes they are there and sometimes they are not. Most of them don't even seem to know that they are dead at all..." Frodo's voice was trailing off.

"And have any of them ever tried to talk to you?" Thorin wanted to know. Frodo shrugged, then shook his head.

"Some. But no, not really. They talk sometimes, yes, but it's usually very mean things or they are shouting for someone to help them. Only..." he went quiet and Thorin waited patiently until he had found the courage to go on. "Only Ma, Da and Granny did." Frodo finished very quietly.

Thorin could see how sensitive the topic still was for Frodo and that he was holding something back, but he didn't ask him after his parents or grandparents for now. Whatever they had told Frodo, it didn't seem to have scared him too much and Thorin could only hope that he had received some sort of comfort from them.

"I think you should try and talk to them." Thorin said carefully. "Try and find out what they want. I don't think everybody who dies stays as a ghost, do you?"

Frodo shook his head at that.

"Exactly. Because then the world would be overly full with them, wouldn't it? But you only see the ones that have died an unnatural death, don't you?"

"Yeah." Frodo admitted, looking up at him. "Most of them are hurt. And they look very sad. Or angry."

"Do you think that's because they want something from us? Maybe they want to find rest and there is some way for us to help them. But to know that, we will have to ask them first. And as much as I would like to do that, I can't see them, so you will have to. Do you think you can?"

Frodo remained quiet for a moment before he looked up at Thorin and gave him a barely perceptible nod.

"I can try." he whispered. "But they still scare me."

"Then maybe try and find a ghost who doesn't scare you as much as the others. Maybe another child. Someone who you know probably won't hurt you."

"There was a girl last night." Frodo whispered. "I've never seen her before. She was in my room, appearing and disappearing, but she didn't try to hurt me like some of the other ghosts do."

"Then maybe try and talk to her tonight." Thorin suggested. "Ask her her name. Ask what she wants from you, if you can help her in any way."

"What if she doesn't reply? If she just continues to haunt me?" Frodo still sounded scared by the idea of actually talking to the ghost.

"Then we will find another one. Maybe the girl in the school that you told me about or someone else that you can see." Thorin did his best to sound confident, hoping that some of that reassurance would go over to Frodo and help him find the courage to do what needed to be done.

He was faintly surprised at himself with how quickly he had seemingly accepted the notion that the dead people Frodo was seeing were indeed reality. The revelation should have been something that shattered the entire image of the world as he knew it and painted everything else in a new light, but for some reason it seemed like a part of him had always known that there was more to the world than his bare eyes could see. What a strange coincidence it was that it should have been young Frodo of all people to show him. He couldn't wait to discuss everything with Dwalin, hear his opinion on the situation and wondered idly if his husband would believe him at all.

Thorin left Frodo not long after, hoping that he had given the boy enough reassurance so he would attempt to talk to the dead girl in his room and that they would finally be able to do something on the morrow.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one and only Frodo POV chapter in this. Eyyyyy.
> 
> [Coincidentally also my last work day for this year. Yayyyyy. It's gonna be a real long one, so that's why you get this chapter now xD]

_"Why does a wedding have to be so_ complicated _?" Dwalin groans and buries his face in his hands._

_"Well, technically it's not even a wedding, it's just a civil union..." Thorin throws in carefully. He hates to bring up the fact the he isn't officially allowed 'marry' his partner, but sometimes it's good to remind themselves of it, especially when they are drowning in the sheer number of things to do as they are at the moment._

_"Do you think we should write 'wedding invitation' or 'civil union invitation' on the cards then?" Dwalin frowns. He hates it as much as Thorin does. "The latter sounds shit, if you ask me."_

_"It does." Thorin has to agree. "How about we just scrap that completely and ask them to come to a party that we give?"_

_"And surprise them with our wedding there?" Dwalin snorts. "I think half of them wouldn't even turn up and the other half would be dressed rather inappropriately. No, I think we need at least_ some _kind of official announcement."_

_"Let's go with 'wedding' then." Thorin sighs. "We can always put an asterisk on there and say something snarky about how thanks to our government it isn't actually a wedding at the bottom."_

_Dwalin laughs and bends over to press a kiss on his temple._

_"You're becoming quite the revolutionary in your old days. Who would've thought."_

_"Take care of who you're calling 'old' here. I'm barely over 40." Thorin shoots back and begins to tickle Dwalin in that spot over his hips where he knows his soon-to-be husband is especially sensitive. Dwalin positively shrieks, making Thorin chuckle in turn. "And you're not that much younger than me anyway."_

_"Sure, old man." Dwalin presses out between bouts of breathless laughter. Thorin thinks it's rather unfair - Dwalin is only three years younger than him, after all. Not exactly much._

_"And yet you were the first one with grey hairs in his beard." Thorin teases him mercilessly, although he stops tickling him._

_"All your fault. It probably got scared at the thought of getting married." Dwalin laughs and Thorin punches him lightly in the ribs. It's true though - they had discovered the first grey hair in Dwalin's beard one week after their improvised proposals._

_"Nah, I'm sure it was the stress." he grins back. Although they are trying to keep the fancies to a minimum for their little celebration, there is still a lot to organise. Thankfully Dís and Balin, who had both been overjoyed at the news, had offered their help, but there was still far too much left that only Dwalin and Thorin could do - like, for example, deciding on the text for the invitations that they were arguing over now. Dwalin takes one of their drafts into his hand and frowns again._

_"Why do we always have to be so polite? Why can't we just write 'Hey folks, we're getting married. There'll be free food and booze and probably a few tears. If you don't come we'll personally rip your balls off. T &D'" _

_His facial expression was so earnest that Thorin almost believed him to be serious for a moment._

_"Maybe we should do exactly that." he laughed._

_*_

Frodo was shivering. The sensation was nothing new for him - he had been cold more often than not in his life and since he had moved in with his uncle, Bilbo constantly complained that their heaters didn't seem to be working properly anymore. Of course, Frodo knew what the reason was -the dead had little use for warmth and the strength of their emotions always rendered the rooms cold. It was a cold that came from deep inside, that seemed to sit within Frodo's bones now, so even when he was out in the sun's warmth he always felt its shadow in his heart.

He burrowed deeper into his blankets and thought about Mr. Oakenshield's words from earlier. How was he supposed to talk to many of the dead around him? Many of them seemed so angry and although he hadn't told the psychiatrist, some of them had already threatened and even hurt him. How could he know that whoever he would try and talk to now wouldn't be doing the same? Even if it was only a child. He'd met ghosts that didn't want to hurt him, too, that much was true, but there was never a way of knowing beforehand, especially when the air went cold and he could see the anger and sadness in their eyes.

Frodo closed his eyes and hoped fervently that this night, nobody would come, that he would be able to sleep without any trouble, although he knew that his hopes were likely for naught. Despite what he had told Mr. Oakenshield, the girl he had seen the previous night had frightened him - her pallor had been so deathly pale and she had been behaving as if she couldn't breathe, her soft whimpers making their way into his head and terrifying him. She didn't seem to want to harm him, but she had still looked upset and angry.

Just when he was about to go to sleep, however, the air around him suddenly cooled down a lot, more than it was normal in such a short amount of time. Frodo fought with himself whether he should open his eyes or not - but in the end the fear that one of the dead might try to touch or harm him whilst he wasn't looking frightened him even more than seeing them. With a little whimper he opened his eyes, feeling his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

The light in his room was switched off, but the streetlights from outside still shone through his window, casting stripes of illumination through across the walls and floor. Frodo looked around and shrank back when he saw the shape standing at the other edge of his little room, hair long and unruly and dressed only in a pair of pyjamas that looked like they were light green.

All the plans in his mind dissolved when his thought turned to mindless panic. When Frodo looked again the girl was gone, but he knew she was still there, he could feel her presence in his bones, the cold on his skin-

Faster than he could think he had climbed out of his bed and taken refuge in the little cave his uncle had helped him make from several unused sheets and some poles in the edge of the room. He had a small table in there on which dozens of figurines were standing, of saints and creatures that were thought to help against darkness and ghosts. Frodo had never stopped believing in their power although he had seen the opposite happening more than once.

He nestled with the switch of his torchlight until it finally came on, his breath coming in rapid bursts now. The very air seemed to be tinged with his fear. His fingers were clenched around the torchlight in his hand as he kept shining it around his little sanctuary, back and forth in an almost frantic pattern. Frodo felt it a split second before he saw her again - that sure feeling in his stomach the he wasn't alone, the goose bumps on his skin and a breath of cold air on his neck again. Then she sat there, at the other end of the cavern, looking at him with wide eyes, soft chocking noises coming from her throat.

Frodo frantically scrabbled backwards until he almost ripped down the blankets of his little fortress. The girl didn't move, just looked at him with eyes that seemed a lot more sad than angry.

"Please don't hurt me." he whimpered, realising only after a moment that he had actually talked to her. The girl cocked her head slightly, but still remained at the same place, making no move towards Frodo. He tried to calm down his panicked breathing and still frantically beating heart, remembering Mr. Oakenshield and his voice in his head how he told him that not all ghosts might be bad and some might simply want help. It took all the courage he had, but finally he pressed out the words.

"What do you want? Do you need help?" Frodo held his breath, a part of him hoping she wouldn't reply and simply disappear and the other hoping that he could do something for her.

"Help." she repeated the word, seeming confused for a moment. Her voice seemed wrong somehow, scratchy, as if something was burning deep inside her throat. "Yes. Help."

Encouraged that she seemed to understand him, Frodo took a deep breath.

"What kind of help?"

The girl seemed to think again for a while before she replied.

"Know. They need to know. Ma and Da. They need to know..." It seemed hard for her to concentrate on a single thought. Frodo remembered that the few other ghosts he had talked to didn't seem to have had that problem - maybe it was because she was so freshly dead or because her own death had shocked her more.

"I can help you." Frodo tried to reassure her. Strange how quickly he was losing his fear once he saw that she didn't mean him any harm. Sympathy was rising up inside him now and he wondered how she had died and why. "But you need to tell me what I should do."

"Home." she said, her eyes now intensely focusing on Frodo's. "Go home. A box with a tablet. Find it. Show them..." She seemed desperate for him to help her.

"But where is home? I don't know where you live..." Frodo's voice trailed off.

"Home." The girl repeated the word helplessly as if it would solve all problems. "Trees. A street. Brown houses..."

Frodo felt frustration and despair rise inside him. How was he supposed to know what she was talking about? There were hundreds of streets like that close to here, not even to mention the entirety of London and its suburbs.

"I still don't know." He shook his head, not knowing what else to say or how to prompt her. "Is there anything special close by? Do you know a house number or street or..."

She honestly seemed to think about his words for a few moments, before she began talking again. The girl choked in the middle of her words and Frodo began to get scared for her until he remembered that she was already dead.

"A fountain." she said after a while. "With horses. Lots of trees. A red door. My sister's swing...we used to play there." She smiled unexpectedly and suddenly Frodo found that all his fear had fled. Her smile somehow made her look a lot more alive. He frowned as he began to think - the description sounded familiar. He knew that fountain. Sometimes when he had been outside and walking to the park with his uncle he had walked past it. It was a small fountain but he had always like the statues of the horses. There were a few roads close by but he guessed he could probably search for one with lots of trees and a red door when he went there. And that he would go there, there was no doubt, he decided.

"I'm going to search for it. Tomorrow." he promised her. "And your room? A box you said? Where is it?"

The girl once again looked rather forlorn, as if she didn't quite know how to answer the question.

"In my room, yes. The box. Under my bed? I think. Upstairs..." her voice trailed off and somehow Frodo knew she wouldn't be saying much more.

"I'll see if I can find it then." he told the girl. "I promise I'll try and help you."

"Thank you." she cocked her head again, the hint of a smile flickering over her face once more. Frodo wondered whether he should ask her to go away so he could sleep, but just as he opened his mouth she disappeared, the warmth slowing returning to the room as soon as she was gone. He climbed back into his bed, hoping that he would be able to do what he had promised her on the next day.


	19. Chapter 19

_"When was the last time we had a holiday like this?" Thorin wonders idly as his fingers are gently wandering over Dwalin's scalp whose head is resting on Thorin's chest._

_"The year right after we met?" Dwalin's replies questioningly and Thorin has to admit with a sting in his heart that it's true. He's always thought he had too much work and responsibility to go away for too long, so their honeymoon has been a perfect excuse for Dwalin to drag him away from everything for three weeks despite Thorin's initial protests._

_"Probably, yeah." After their recent move to London and the wedding they didn't truly have much money left over, but it had been enough for a holiday back in Scotland in a small cottage close to the sea that promised them time only for them and which had to be shared with no one else. Thorin and Dwalin are enjoying these special moments and the memories that they are creating here, surrounded by little else than wilderness and sheep. It is a good reprieve from all the stress of the wedding preparations and the celebrations themselves even though neither of them had wanted to be too extravagant._

_"You know what?" Dwalin asks him suddenly, reaching for one of Thorin's hands, the one with the wedding band on it. He touches it lightly and Thorin smiles._

_"What is it?" he asks softly._

_"Sometimes I still wake up and think it's all a dream. That I met you. That we married. All of this." He does an almost helpless motion. "Is that a strange thing to think?"_

_"It means that you completely delusional and urgently need me to guide you back to reality." Thorin grins. Of course Dwalin hasn't expected a serious answer, although Thorin has to admit that more than once he has felt exactly the same. That nobody in the world could be as lucky as he has been. He intertwines his fingers with those of his husband (what an unusual, strange, beautiful word it still is to think) and looks up at the old stonen ceiling supported by some wooden beams above them._

_"Then do your very best." Dwalin grins back, shifting slightly with a satisfied groan. He has always claimed that Thorin's stomach makes for the most comfortable pillow. At least he hadn't mentioned that particular fact in their wedding speech, unlike so many other embarrassing things that had almost made Thorin regret the decision of marrying him._ Almost _._

_Their wedding day is something they will both be remembering for a long time - despite the multiple mishaps on and before it everything had worked out in the end, just like they had hoped too. There had been tears and kisses, food and drink and many heartfelt congratulations to both of them and they had fallen into bed happily but tired that evening._

_"I certainly will." Thorin grins and bends over to try and kiss Dwalin who puts up his arms to pull Thorin down on him._

_*_

Thorin looked down at Frodo who was walking next to him and smiled a little. There was a keen purpose to Frodo's steps and although he seemed nervous, there seemed little trace left of the fear that had plagued him so recently. When Frodo had asked him to accompany him to the house of the little girl's ghost, he had agreed without hesitation - he had rarely seen Frodo so enraptured in a task and willing to do something as he was now. And maybe he could indeed be of some help to him, especially when it came to talking to the girl's parents so they could gain access to the house.

As they soon found out, it wasn't necessary. With Frodo's directions they had found the fountain quickly enough and there were only two roads going away from it that had lots of trees in them. On the second road they tried they finally found the house with the red door. Even without it, however, they would have probably known that they were at the right place. There were a number of cars parked around it and a black garland draped around the door. Thorin exchanged a gaze with Frodo.

"I think we might have stumbled into the aftermath of the funeral." he said quietly, wondering about the strange coincidence. He couldn't think of any other reason why there would be so many people here now, especially when he saw another couple enter the house, dressed all in black.

They walked up the house and Thorin was momentarily distracted by the sight of a little girl sitting on a swing outside, swinging back and forth without paying any attention to her surroundings. He hesitated, contemplated the thought of going over and talking to her since his senses were telling him the she was definitely not alright, but then Frodo pulled at his sleeve and he knew it had to wait. Maybe later.

Thorin let Frodo step forward to ring the doorbell. It opened and the tear-stained face of a woman who was probably the girl's mother appeared. She looked down at Frodo and seemed surprised, obviously wondering what the boy was doing here and trying to remember where she knew him from.

"My name is Frodo." Frodo told her and lifted his hand. The woman took it and shook it with a confused expression. "I was a friend of your daughter's. We played together, sometimes."

"But Clara hasn't left the house in over half a year since..." she took a deep breath. "Since she got worse."

"Before that." Frodo told her and smiled. "I would like to say goodbye. Would that be alright?"

"Of course." The woman opened the door and let them pass inside, obviously much too emotional to be able to question Frodo any further. And why else would such a young boy be coming anyway?

There was the quiet murmuring inside that Thorin knew from other assemblies after funerals. Almost everyone was wearing black and he felt strangely out of place in his normal clothes, although he was still wearing his usual black coat. The woman who had opened the door for them returned to the assembly where she was greeted by another woman, the ring around her finger and way she was embracing her wife making it clear that the two were married. An elderly lady was sitting next to them, obviously the grandmother of the dead girl.

Frodo, however, didn't pay them much attention but, after a quick glance to the mourners, made for the stairs that led upwards instead in a moment where nobody could see him. Thorin followed him quickly, hoping that he wouldn't attract anybody's attention as they both walked up the stairs to the upper floor. It was easy to discern which two doors led into the childrens' rooms - they had their names put on them in bright and colourful letters with a few flowers around.

Frodo opened the door that said 'Clara' on it and they both stepped into the room. Clara had seemingly loved horses and wolves, the walls plastered with images of the two different animals and several posters from Disney and Marvel. However, it was also clear that this had been the room of someone who had been sick for a long time - even though it had clearly been aired there was still the impression of sickness in the air that Thorin could feel like a veil falling over his shoulders.

"What are we looking for?" he asked Frodo.

The boy looked up at him quickly before he directed his gaze back at the room, clearly on the lookout for something.

"She said something about a box. Maybe under her bed."

"Alright." Thorin said with a sigh. "Let's have a look then."

Frodo nodded and pulled away the covers that were hiding the underside of the bed from view. He knelt down to have a look and suddenly froze in his movement. Thorin bend down to him, alarmed.

"Frodo, is everything alright?" he asked, the same moment that he could feel it too - the whisper of cold air in his neck and the feeling that something was different.

"She's here." Frodo told him. "You should probably step away. She might be scared."

Thorin did as he had been told, although he still felt the urge to peek underneath the bed to see if he could see the dead girl. He could see Frodo staring intensely ahead and for one moment he thought he could see something, a flash of pale skin maybe, a few slender fingers stretching out from beneath the bed- but then the illusion was gone and he shook his head to clear his vision. When he could finally see properly again the cold in the air was gone and there was only Frodo left, sitting on the floor and cradling a small wooden box in his arms. Thorin couldn't remember seeing him retrieving it from under the bed.

"She gave me this." Frodo explained and the small tremble in his voice told Thorin that the meeting with Clara hadn't left him unaffected. Thorin reached out to have a look at it but Frodo shook his head and cradled the box a little more closely to his chest. Clearly this was something he wanted to do himself and Thorin would never try to deter him from that. He was glad that Frodo was beginning to show initiative.

"Did she say what she wanted you to do with it?" he asked.

"She wants me to give it to her mothers. I don't know what's in it." Frodo sounded like he was rather curious about what it held, but he didn't dare break his promise and actually have a look inside.

"Then let's do that." Thorin nodded at him and walked towards the door. Frodo almost ran past him, apparently eager to fulfil the dead girl's last wish. Fortunately nobody seemed to notice them coming down the stairs, although the sound of the conversations around them slowly began to ebb away as Frodo approached the two mothers with the little box in his hands.

"She wanted you to have this." he said quietly and the confusion and heartbreak on the mothers' faces was palpable. The old woman next to them frowned, but didn't say anything. Thorin kept in the background, not wanting to intrude on the scene. Frodo stepped backwards as well until he was close to him, although both of them stayed to see what it was that was happening. They saw the two women opening the box and gasp when they found their daughter's tablet in it. It was hard to see what they were doing but apparently something had been left for them on there, for after a moment they could hear sounds coming from the tablet and it was obvious that there was a video playing. There was silence in the room as everyone stared and watched and the two mothers turned paler and paler with every minute, tears in their eyes.

"Why?" One of the asked finally, turning to the grandmother at their side. "Why would you..."

Her voice trailed off, catching itself in a sob. Thorin stepped closer to where they had set the tablet aside and his heart felt heavy when he saw the image of the grandmother preparing some food for her granddaughter and, out of her sight but still within that of the tablet's camera that was obviously hidden behind something, pouring some pipe cleaner into the soup.

Thorin looked around for Frodo, but the boy was already on his way to the door, his work here done. Maybe it was better if they left, Thorin thought. The rest of it would be for the family, the police and one of their counsellors to sort out. He could only hope that Clara's ghost had found its peace and that somehow, the little family they had just met would get over the terrible tragedy that had happened. When he was outside he saw Frodo talk to the little girl on the swing who had to be Clara's twin sister from the pictures Thorin had seen in the house.

He stepped away to give the two of them a little privacy, not wanting to listen in to what they were saying. In the end, however, the little girl raised her head and a small smile crossed her face when she looked at Frodo who just nodded and returned to Thorin's side.

"I think we should go now." Frodo said quietly, somehow sounding old far beyond his years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the movie, it's the girl's mum who kills her. I changed it for this story, since I feel like it has already been depleted of female characters by me and I didn't want to be the one new one to be a murderer. So two new ones instead, and a granny who's slightly out of it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A CAT NAMED NAT

_Thorin can't even remember who's had the idea first, him or Dwalin. But somehow they both find themselves at the big animal shelter close to their home this weekend, only a few days away from their first wedding anniversary and looking for a cat. They don't really have any idea what kind of cat they want and when the volunteer there asks them, they can only shrug helplessly. Of course they've done some research beforehand and know what a cat needs and what it doesn't, but they aren't really keen on any particular races or have any specific idea about the way it's supposed to look._

_"How about we'll just go around and let you meet them then?" The member of staff smiles at them and gestures for them to come with her. Dwalin and Thorin nod and follow her through the bowels of the large rehoming centre._

_After fifteen minutes Thorin doesn't know anything anymore. His head is swimming with all the different cats they have met and if it were possible for him he'd take them all home, right here and now. It's Dwalin who makes the choice for him in the end - he kneels down in front of a large ginger cat and smiles as she comes and keeps butting her head against his legs and purring._

_"She seems rather taken with you." Thorin laughs and crouches down next to him, holding his hand out to the cat who, after a short moment of consideration, comes over and lets herself be petted for a brief moment before returning to Dwalin._

_"Are you getting jealous?" Dwalin grins back and continues to spoil and play with the cat._

_"Does she have a name?" he turns around and asks the woman who has shown them here. She shakes her head._

_"No, she's relatively new and we haven't thought of one yet."_

_"I wonder what your name should be..." Dwalin wonders loudly and keeps petting the cat who seems to be almost ecstatic. Thorin can only shake his head and smile about the enthusiasm of both cat and husband._

_"Nat." he suggests, knowing Dwalin will immediately get the reference._

_"Like Natasha Romanoff? Yeah, I like that." Dwalin turns back to the cat. "Would you like to be a Nat?"_

_The cat just keeps purring and rubbing herself against Dwalin's legs. The woman from the staff has to slow Dwalin's enthusiasm a little - they can't take Nat back home with them right this day because there are still formalities that have to be done, rehoming costs that have to be paid and so on, but she promises that Nat is reserved for them now and will be with them as soon as possible. Dwalin seemingly finds it hard to say goodbye to the cat and Thorin feels the same - after some time Nat gets more open with him, too, walking back and forth between him and Dwalin to get the maximum amount of love and attention possible._

_When they come home that day they spend a lot of time discussing how to best prepare the house for Nat and when they fall down onto the sofa exhaustedly in the evening, Dwalin huddles close to Thorin with a smile._

_"We're almost like a real family now." he remarks and Thorin chuckles._

_"Not almost. We are." he replies, with a feeling of deep and warm satisfaction pooling in his stomach._

_*_

Thorin was standing at the back of the little school auditorium and watched the stage in front with a smile on his lips. He had been here since the beginning of the play, watching as the children threw themselves with fervour into their roles in the little story about the origins of King Arthur that was being done by Frodo's class. He had encouraged Frodo to keep speaking out and put as much grandeur in his role as young Arthur as possible, even though he only had a smaller part towards the end when he had to pull the sword from the stone.

The rehearsals for the play had helped Frodo a lot to integrate with the rest of his class again and although he was still being bullied, he seemed generally more at ease, especially now that he knew that not all ghosts were malicious. He had even managed to talk to the girl in the library and convince her to leave, although the hanged people in the hallway did not seem to want to disappear. They didn't frighten him as much anymore as they had a while ago, however, and for that Thorin was glad. He hoped that Frodo would learn to live with those ghosts that he wasn't able to help.

Despite knowing that it would likely end well, Thorin still found himself holding his breath for a moment when he saw Frodo entering the stage. He seemed shy at first but when he saw Thorin standing back at the hall, he visibly pulled himself together and stepped forwards to the very edge to where the sword was sticking out from its paper mache stone. Thorin knew that Bilbo couldn't be here this afternoon and so he was glad that at least he was able to see Frodo's performance.

They boy's lines came hesitatingly at first before he seemed to find his courage and spoke louder and more confidently. The cheers from the other pupils when he finally pulled the sword from the stone were almost deafening and Thorin was sure his clapping was amongst the loudest at the end when the curtain fell, especially when he saw that Frodo was being carried off stage by his fellow actors. He waited for a while as he auditorium emptied, knowing that Frodo would linger and come out eventually to wait for Bilbo with him.

When Frodo finally emerged from behind the stage, the auditorium was empty and quite some time had passed. His face was flushed and his eyes was sparkling, making him look as happy as Thorin had ever seen him.

"That was a very good play. You did great." Thorin greeted him with a wide smile.

"Really? You think so?" Frodo's eyes were wide as he asked to see if Thorin was lying in order to be nice to him.

"Really." Thorin told him and it was honesty that spoke from his voice. "I really liked watching it and your acting was fantastic."

"Thank you." Frodo suddenly smiled shyly. He still seemed sad that his uncle hadn't been able to come, but at least Thorin's presence alleviated some of that sadness.

"I saw another ghost before the play." he suddenly said to Thorin. Thorin looked up, not having expected it at all.

"You did? What kind of ghost was it?" he wanted to know from Frodo, interested in what story the boy would be able to recount this time.

"It was an elderly woman." Frodo replied. "She was walking around in the dressing room. One half of her face is burnt off, but I don't think she noticed..."

His voice trailed off as he was trying to remember exactly what the woman had done.

"I walked up to her where the other children couldn't see me and asked if I could help her somehow. I'm not even sure she really heard my question though. She just looked at me and told me how lovely I was and if I needed some help with my makeup for the play."

Thorin wondered inwardly who the woman had been and how she might have died - it almost sounded like an accident to him, maybe a fire on the school grounds a while ago. He made a mental note to look it up. Maybe her death had been so sudden that she hadn't even realised her life had ended and had just kept going.

"I told her that I would like her to help me and she seemed really happy about it. So she showed me the way to some of the old backstage rooms and just started to put some makeup on my face. She told me about her family, the little daughter she had, everything. And when she was done she just turned around and left."

"Left as in...disappeared? Or left as in walked away?" Thorin wanted to know.

"I think she disappeared. I couldn't feel her anymore. Maybe helping me made her realise she wasn't real..."

"Maybe." Thorin agreed and smiled at Frodo again. "I'm glad to hear that you have been able to help her. Maybe, if we look into the school chronicles again, we can find out what happened. If there was a fire or anything here."

"Yeah." Frodo nodded, obviously taken with the idea. "Maybe I can also ask Uncle Bilbo to go to the library again with me."

"That sounds like a great idea." Thorin nodded. "I'm sure he'll be very happy to help you."

They walked for a while until they had left the school's auditorium and were outside in the fresh air where a few children were still lingering together with their parents. As soon as Frodo stepped outside, the others waved at him and laughed and after a short nod from Thorin, telling Frodo that he didn't mind him going, the boy took off running towards them, laughing as he did so. Thorin kept to the side of the scene, watching as Frodo interacted with the other children, obviously enjoying himself although he was still cautious in everything that he was doing. Of course none of his troubles would go away over night - but now that he knew that he wasn't a 'freak' as he'd always thought and had found some measure of fulfilment in the fact that he could help at least some of the dead that he was seeing he had more confidence than ever before. The bullies wouldn't stop, that much Thorin knew, but there were others in Frodo's class that he now had the courage to befriend like he hadn't before.

After a while the other families had to leave and, after a short conversation with the adults in which Frodo shook his head and pointed back at the school, they walked away whilst he came back to Thorin's side.

"Those seem some very nice children you met there." Thorin observed with a nod at the leaving families.

"Yeah. They are called Merry, Pippin and Rosie and they all said they really liked my performance today!" Frodo was beaming with pride.

"See, I told you." Thorin remarked with a little chuckle. "It wasn't just me being nice. You were great."

Frodo looked up at him, smiling widely.

"They also asked me if I wanted to come around to play with them next weekend. Do you think Uncle Bilbo will allow it?"

"I'm sure he will." Thorin reassured him. "Talking about your uncle..."

"Hm?" Frodo looked back up at him.

"Don't you think it might be time that you told him about what you can see?"

Frodo went very still at Thorin's side, looking down at his hands and obviously not knowing what to do or say. He reminded Thorin of the boy he had met at the beginning, shy and afraid of both the dead and the living.

"I'm sure he worries a lot about you." Thorin continued. "Don't you think he deserves to know?"

"But what if he thinks that I'm lying? That I'm mad?" Frodo's voice was trembling.

"Do you really think your uncle would think or say something like that?" Thorin asked him softly. After a moment of hesitation, Frodo shook his head.

"I don't think so, too. Remember how you told me you had seen your grandmother? Maybe you remember something from her that you could tell your uncle, so that he knows you are speaking the truth."

Frodo seemed to think about that for a moment before he nodded, obviously trying to remember a moment with his grandmother that might work.

"Yeah." he acceded. "Maybe I'll try."

"Good." Thorin put as much pride in his voice as possible. "I'm sure you can do it, Frodo."


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're slooooooowly nearing the end. IS EVERYBODY EXCITED YET =D.

_"Happy seventh anniversary." Dwalin leans over to plant a kiss on Thorin's lips that Thorin happily reciprocates._

_"And to many more decades." Thorin laughs when they finally part, lifting his glass of wine to toast in Dwalin's direction. Nat meows from the other end of the room and jumps up on Dwalin's knees as if she wants to say that she will definitely be a part of these years as well and Thorin laughs, reaching over to pet her._

_"And hopefully many more years with you, too." he adds, making Dwalin smile and pat Nat's head as well. The cat has become an integral part of their household now and it's hard to say who is doting on her more, Thorin or Dwalin, even though she herself sometimes still seems to prefer Dwalin, just like when they had first met her. Nat meows happily and stretches out on Dwalin's knees, obviously not inclined to move from there any time soon. He frowns and prods her gently._

_"Nat, get off. There's something I need to do."_

_Thorin raises his eyebrows, having no idea what Dwalin is talking about. He just watches with growing amusement as Dwalin somehow tries to get Nat to jump off his lap to no avail. In the end his husband simply stands up which causes Nat to slide off with a rather angry sounding shriek and walk over into her corner where she starts to dismember her scratching tree, obviously rather insulted. Thorin and Dwalin both laugh for a moment before Dwalin turns serious again._

_Dwalin clears his throat before he pulls something out of his pocket and goes down on one knee in front of Thorin._

_"Don't laugh!" he says when Thorin bites his lip to hold back his chuckles._

_"Okay, soooo..." Dwalin takes a deep breath and looks up at Thorin. "We've been together for almost fourteen years now and in an official union for half of that time. Even though we've both changed, we're still here and together and I enjoy every day that I'm by your side. And since I'm terrible with words, I'm just going to ask you this - will you marry me? Again?" And with that he opens the little box in his hand that holds a small, engraved key ring on it._

_Thorin takes a moment to compute what Dwalin means, but then it dawns upon him - the bill to legalise gay marriage in the UK has passed earlier the same year and it is rumoured that next year the first non-heterosexual couples will be allowed to officially get married, no longer forced to have a civil union instead of a real marriage._

_"So you're thinking of having a second wedding?" he chuckles. Dwalin nods and continues to look up at him expectantly. Thorin sighs._

_"Yes, of course I will." He takes the key ring that he sees Dwalin has had engraved with an old celtic marriage oath similar to the one on their wedding rings and pulls his husband upright and then close for a kiss._

_"You're incredible." Thorin laughs in between little kisses. "I can't believe you'd want to go through all of that stress_ again _."_

_"Well, we can do it a lot more informally this time..." Dwalin shrugs. "Just a reminder for us and our friends that we're finally properly married."_

_"Mhm yes." Thorin agrees and nuzzles his nose in Dwalin's neck, continuing to press small kisses on the side of his throat. Dwalin grumbles something under his breath and pulls him closer, making Thorin smile. He'd marry him a hundred times, over and over again, if he could._

_*_

Bilbo rubbed his forehead and sighed, feeling terribly guilty. The editor-in-chief of the magazine he was writing for had called in this urgent meeting only the day before and it had been impossible for Bilbo to say no to coming - it might have cost him his job, or at least a number of articles in the next issue. And for some reason his chief never let the excuse of 'my nephew is in a very important school play and I should really be there to watch him and cheer him on' count. He had felt terrible when he'd had to tell Frodo that he couldn't make it to see his play. That he would get to the school by car and take him home afterwards didn't really do much to cheer either of them up.

Frodo had been angry and disappointed with him and Bilbo couldn't fault him for it at all, since he felt like he was being a terrible uncle and foster parent. The rest of yesterday evening Frodo had spent sulking in his room and Bilbo found himself unable to do anything against it. Frodo had seemed a little happier in the morning, but he was still quiet although Bilbo hoped it was more due to nervousness than anything else. Indeed, Frodo seemed to have changed over the last few days - he seemed far more confident and smiles were flickering over his face a lot more often. Bilbo had wondered where the change was coming from and whether it was only a phase of Frodo or he was truly slowly getting better.

As soon as his car pulled up in front of the school, he saw Frodo waving and running towards him, remnants of the theatre makeup still on his face. Bilbo laughed when Frodo hugged him as soon as he had opened the door and stepped into the car and on sat down on his seat.

"Hey." Bilbo smiled down at him. "I'm so sorry I'm so late, the meeting overran and there was a traffic jam. How was your play?"

"It was great!" Frodo beamed at him. "Everyone said that I was great. And Merry and Pippin asked me if I wanted to come play with them next Saturday! Please, can I?"

"Wow, that sounds awesome." Bilbo acknowledged, pulling back out into the street. "And of course you can. Do you want me to drive you there or do they live close enough that we can walk over?"

"I think they live close by." Frodo said told him.

"Then that'll make it even easier." Bilbo smiled at him. "Now, since I couldn't come see your play and was late right now, I would like to apologize to you and make up for it somehow. What do you say about going to My Old Dutch to get some pancakes?"

"Yes!" Frodo's grin was wide. Bilbo knew that he loved the pancake house, although he always tried not to go there too often since he wanted every visit there to be a treat for Frodo and not something that you would just do every day.

"Great. Then I hope you're hungry enough to stuff all those pancakes inside you." Bilbo grinned back and was delighted to hear Frodo laugh and say that he was hungry enough to eat an entire lion whole, hair and all. After ten minutes, however, his enthusiasm slightly waned as they were caught in yet another traffic jam that turned out to be due to an accident on the road ahead.

"Oh dear." Bilbo frowned after they had heard the news in the radio. "I hope nobody was seriously hurt..."

Frodo was looking out of the window, but flinched all of a sudden and looked back at him.

"Uncle Bilbo?" he said after a moment.

"Yeah, what is it, Frodo?"

"I-." Frodo swallowed. "I have something that I need to tell you. A big secret. Promise you won't laugh at me?"

"I won't." Bilbo said gently. "What is it?"

"You know when you just said that you hoped nobody got seriously hurt in that accident?" Frodo asked him and Bilbo nodded. "Someone got hurt. Someone died. A cyclist..."

"How do you know?" Bilbo frowned. It hadn't been on the radio; he'd have heard that. And they were by far too far away from the site of the accident for anything to be visible.

"Because she is standing right next to my window." Frodo said, very quietly. Bilbo's head whipped around, his eyes wide, although he could see nothing on the pavement. He tried to understand what Frodo had just told him, but his mind was reeling back from the implications.

"How-"

"I can see them all." Frodo continued, his voice trembling. It was clear that it cost him all the strength he still had to go on and now it all tumbled out of him in a flood as if he couldn't stop once the dam was broken. "I can see dead people. They are everywhere and they used to scare me a lot, although now I know that many of them just want help. So now I try not to be scared anymore. I try...I try to help them."

Bilbo took a deep breath. It was rather difficult for him to believe anything that Frodo had just said and his rational mind rejected everything immediately - but there was also the bone deep knowledge from somewhere that Frodo wasn't lying. He knew what it was like when Frodo lied and the way he looked at him now, shaking slightly and blue eyes full of hope and fear, was not like that.

"Do you believe me?" Frodo asked him. Bilbo stopped himself at the last minute to instinctively shake his head in disbelief.

"I...honestly, Frodo, I don't know." he said hoarsely.

"Your mum's name was Belladonna, wasn't it?" Frodo said suddenly. Bilbo thought his heart would stop. He had never really talked to Frodo about his mother, partly because even after all these years, the far-too-early death of his own parents still hurt. And usually, whenever she was being referred to, it had been as 'Bella'.

"How did you know that?"

"She told me." Frodo replied, meeting his gaze. "She also said that she's really, really proud of you."

Bilbo noticed that his hands had begun to tremble ever so slightly and he clenched the steering wheel hard, trying to hide it. He was seeing his mother in front of his inner eye again, remembered the warmth of her smile and her embrace, her loud voice and how her hair had always smelled of strawberries, her favourite shampoo. He'd never had the chance to ask her if she thought he was doing alright, if she was proud of him - she had died far too early for that and his father Drogo had followed soon after. Maybe that was also one of the reasons why he had taken in Frodo - so that his nephew wouldn't have the same experience he'd had.

"She also asked me to tell you that the day when you were showing off your first breed of roses, she was there. She never told you, but she was there and she was so incredibly proud of you, but she was too ashamed to admit that she'd been wrong."

Bilbo still remembered the day that Frodo was talking about as if had been just yesterday - ever since he could think he had loved gardening and he had started cultivating his own roses from a very early age. That particular day he had been twelve years old and was about to show his first self-grown breed of rose at a local gardening show. However, he and his parents'd had a terrible argument the day earlier and in his rage he had stormed out and never looked whether his parents had come to the show or not. To know that they had been there, had seen him present the little rose he had bred himself...something constricted in his chest and he felt his eyes grow wet.

"She told you that?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"Yeah. She's gone now, but she said she's glad I came to live with you." Frodo's eyes slowly began to fill with tears. "I'm glad I'm living with you, too, Uncle Bilbo."

"Oh Frodo..." Knowing that it would still take a while for the traffic jam to abate, Bilbo leaned over and pulled his nephew into a tight hug, feeling his small arms clamp around him with all their strength, telling more than anything how much Frodo had needed his uncle's approval and confirmation that he believed him. "I'm so sorry, Frodo. And yes, I'm very happy to have you with me, too. I couldn't be happier."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another early one because I'm off to the airport in an hour ;D.

_"Congratulations on your second wedding!" Fíli is throwing several handfuls of confetti in the air which, to many people's despair, land in a lot of glasses filled with sparkly wine and other drinks and on at least as many paper plates with food. Thorin laughs at the same time as many of the guests are rolling their eyes._

_"Thanks, Fíli. Next time you throw around this much paper, make sure there is no possibility for it to land all over our stuff, alright?"_

_Fíli just laughs wildly in response before running off again to try and find his brother. Dís is standing next to Thorin and shakes her head in amusement, her partner off somewhere close to the buffet and talking to Balin._

_"You know, I thought the worst was over when we had both of them out of their toddler years. Then I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse when they had both finally left primary school. But then puberty started happening and by now I'm not so sure these two will ever_ not _be a handful."_

_"They'll probably terrorise you until you two are a hundred years old." Dwalin laughs, earning an elbow into his ribs from Dís in return._

_"Absolutely not. I'll just leave them with you two whenever they get too much." Dís shoots back dryly although, of course, she is unable to hide the pride in her eyes whenever she is talking about her two sons. Thorin can understand her well - he and Dwalin have spent enough time in the past decade taking care of them that they have basically turned into a second pair of parents for the two boys._

_"Like you've always done." Thorin grins at his sister and steps behind Dwalin when she shakes her fist at him. Dís just laughs and takes a moment to look around the big outdoors tent they've had to erect against the typical English drizzle until she has located her sons and partner, making sure that they are all fine._

_"And you two, have you never thought of having children?"_

_Dwalin and Thorin exchange a glance, Dwalin taking over with answering for both of them._

_"Thought about, yes, but we've both decided not to. Somehow...I'm not even sure why, but I think we're more than happy with Nat and playing best uncles in the world to your two boys." he smiles and Dís quietly acknowledges their decision with a nod._

_"We might, however, get a second cat at some point." Thorin adds and takes Dwalin's arm. "Or maybe a dog."_

_"I'm not sure Nat would be so happy about a dog though..." Dwalin muses and Thorin laughs and agrees. "A second or third cat, however..."_

_"To be fair, I think she'd hate those too, because then she doesn't have our sole attention anymore. Although I guess our flat is large enough to accommodate all of them..."_

_"You'll both turn into crazy cat uncles if you continue like this." Dís laughs, mirth sparkling in her eyes._

_"I think we already are, at least in our hearts." Dwalin throws back at her and the three of them laugh. Thorin looks over at Dwalin, marvels at the way laughter still transforms him into something magical and beautiful even after all these years and shuffles a little closer, wordlessly pressing Dwalin's arm in a gesture that says I Love You._

_*_

Thorin and Frodo were sitting on the same park bench where Thorin had told him that he had to stop seeing him a while ago. Spring was finally here in full force now, the air fresh and tinged with the promise of warmth as the sun was slowly climbing higher and higher with every day. Frodo seemed relaxed, his legs dangling over the edge of the bench as he looked around.

"So, have you talked to your uncle?" Thorin asked him.

"Yeah." Frodo nodded. "I told him on the way back from school after the play." He fell quiet after that, obviously remembering the conversation he'd had with his uncle.

"And?" Thorin nudged him gently, keen on hearing how Bilbo had reacted to his nephew's revelation. Frodo fidgeted a little before he replied.

"He didn't believe me at first." he said quietly. "But then I told him about grandmother and he...he went very quiet. And he apologized, saying that he was sorry he didn't believe me. I asked him if he could tell me more about granny, because I know nothing about her. In the evening he took out some old picture albums from when he was small and showed me the pictures."

"That's great." Thorin told him. "I'm glad he knows now, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Frodo seemed just as relieved as Thorin was.

"And what else has happened? Have you been able to play with Merry and Pippin?"

"I was! We played yesterday." Frodo grinned, suddenly seeming a lot more animated. "They had LEGO starships and I was the Emperor and they were the Jedi. It was an epic battle! Rosie was there, too, but she insisted that Leia be a Jedi just like Luke so they could fight together. It was great."

Thorin laughed, remembering well the small figures Frodo had played with in the little chapel when he had first met him. It seemed like Frodo had finally found companions that were his equals and did not belittle or mob him - he could only hope that those friendships would blossom and help Frodo to find his place in the world, away from all the fear and rejection he had suffered so far. He knew that Frodo would have to fight with the repercussions of his ability for the rest of his life and that the psychological scars he had obtained would never entirely disappear, because such was not the nature of mental illness. But at least there were people there now that could help share his burden.

"They said I can come around next weekend, too." Frodo continued. "And Uncle Bilbo told me that it would be okay to have a sleepover at our place at some point! Although..." his voice trailed off.

"Are you scared that you'll have to tell them your secret when the house grows cold and you can see the dead again?" Thorin asked softly. He could understand Frodo's fear of telling anyone about his little secret. The deep-seated anguish of having people not believing him and calling him a freak instead would probably never vanish completely and it made Thorin sad to think that it was with good reason. He still remembered his initial plans to study the dead that Frodo saw, author some scientific publications on them and begin more research. However, in the past few days he had begun to think about it more thoroughly and he had to admit that maybe, after all, it wasn't such a good idea. The scientific world would probably hurl themselves at Frodo and destroy what semblance of peace the boy had managed to build up for himself with a few sweeps. They would do studies and experiments and somewhere along the way Frodo would become a phenomenon, not a simple little boy anymore. No. It was probably better for all of them if his secret remained a secret for a while longer.

"I am." Frodo admitted. "What can I do that they won't hate me or think me weird again?"

"Only tell your secrets to people you trust. Some might try to use them against you, although I don't think Merry, Pippin or Rosie would. Some might not believe you. And it's not so bad now anymore, is it? You can always say your heater is broken when it gets cold in the room."

Frodo shook his head. "No, it isn't that bad now anymore. Most of the ghosts at home are gone now and I can ignore the rest of them. Do you think they'll believe me though?"

"Don't make it worse than it is and fret about it." Thorin told him. "Some things you can never foretell. Just wait and let them happen, I'm sure you'll be able to deal with it once they arise. And I'm sure they won't mind, Frodo. They seem like nice people. Don't worry too much."

"Thank you." Frodo smiled at him. "Thank you for believing in me when nobody else did."

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you right away." Thorin told him and he was honest in his apology. Maybe, if he had somehow managed to gain Frodo's trust earlier, some things might never have happened. Maybe, if he had only believed Azog back then...he pushed the thought away.

"I have an idea how you can talk to your husband again." Frodo said suddenly and Thorin looked over to him, eyebrows raised. "You can do it when he's sleeping. Because then he'll listen to what you say and he'll know. Even if he can't answer."

Thorin leaned back, pondering Frodo's suggestion. Maybe the boy was right. Maybe, this way, he could at least tell him what had been burdening for so long now, since the night of Azog's death and then they could talk more about it the next day.

"I will try." he gave Frodo a small smile that the boy reciprocated after a moment.

"And I think...I think there is nothing more that I can do for you, Frodo. From here on it's all yours. I know you'll make the best out of it, I'm sure of that." The words hurt, but less so than when he had almost given up on him. This was a good end for both them; a good place to leave him. And Frodo would never be alone, he knew - he had his uncle now and hopefully new friends as well.

Frodo looked at him with large eyes that were slowly turning sad.

"That means I'm not going to see you anymore, am I." he said quietly, less of a question but more of a statement to himself.

"I'm afraid not. But maybe you can come by and say hi whenever you see me somewhere. I won't be far. And if you have any trouble again or need help...just tell me, alright?"

Frodo nodded, although his gaze told Thorin that he was sure that this was the last time they would see each other. Thorin hoped that it wouldn't be the case although experience taught him that it often was. But maybe, one day...

"Maybe we can pretend we'll see each other tomorrow?" Frodo asked quietly. "Just for pretend. So it...doesn't hurt so much."

Thorin smiled at him and nodded. Frodo took a deep breath and suddenly he threw his arms around Thorin, squeezing tightly.

"Thank you." he whispered again. "Thank you so much. I knew you could help me."

Thorin tried not to become too emotional, tried to hold back the tears that were unbiddingly rising in his eyes. He knew that too much attachment to his little patients was never good in his job, but Frodo had somehow found his way into his heart and managed to get a firm grip around it. The boy sniffled and Thorin knew that he was crying, so he tried to soothe him by patting his back and murmuring soft words like he would have done with his own nephews when they were sad.

Frodo was wiping the tears and snot from his face when he was looking up at Thorin again before he stood up from the bench and stepped away. Thorin smiled.

"I'll see you tomorrow." he told him softly, mindful of Frodo's earlier words. Frodo nodded and turned around before he walked away down the road.

Thorin kept watching him until he disappeared around a corner. Suddenly his shape looked so small in a world much too large and dangerous for him and for a moment it wasn't Frodo anymore who was walking there but Fíli and Kíli who he had seen grow up from the moment they were born to the strong young people they were today. Then it was his sister who had always been by his side whenever he needed her and his little brother who he had been unable to protect and who, in the dark hours of the early morning, he had sometimes wished to swap places with. And then, for just a moment, it was Dwalin's bulky shape, Dwalin who had been by his side for more than fifteen years, his friend, his love, his _husband_ -

Feeling a shiver inside him that had nothing to do with the weather outside Thorin tucked his hands inside the pockets of his coat and went home.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARE YOU READY FOR THE HEARTBREAK because I sure as hell am not

_They are sitting in the full bus towards Oxford. Thorin has taken this route more than one time and yet he's still amazed at how green the landscape suddenly seems to become once you escape from the London area. They could have taken the car or even the train, but Dwalin had insisted they use the X90, the express bus between the two cities, because it doesn't involve having to find parking in Oxford (which is a thing of impossibility) or having to walk all the way from the station to the city centre. It reminds Thorin of a time when he was still a student and the bus the way to go wherever he went._

_"Did you ever think it would come to this?" Dwalin asks him suddenly. Thorin turns his head away from looking at the landscape outside and looks at his husband instead._

_"Hm?"_

_"Twenty or even fifteen years ago...did you ever see yourself like this? Married to another man, honorary doctorate from Oxford..." Dwalin's voice trails off and Thorin chuckles._

_"Not really." he admits. He turns around more fully so that he is facing Dwalin who is looking at him with an almost serious glance from his gray eyes that Thorin still finds as beautiful as the first time he saw them. "Why, what about you? Does it bother you?"_

_They've had this conversation before and they will have it again - Thorin will never stop feeling guilty about being so successful and working so much, especially since he'd had all the privilege to begin with in contrast to Dwalin who has worked his way up from the bottom through many lows and still ended up on what society perceives as a lower level. And despite all the years they've had together, Thorin is still unable to believe that Dwalin would never feel any kind of resentment about it._

_"Thorin, we've talked about this often enough." Dwalin rubs his forehead with his hand. "Of course it bothered me in the beginning. But that was the beginning. Now..." He drops the serious mask from his face and chuckles, obviously making an effort to lead their conversation into lighter territory. "Or were you talking about you being my husband? Because_ that's _certainly something I won't regret."_

_He laughs when he sees the little smile blooming on Thorin's face. Thorin knows that, at home, he would have leaned over to kiss him but of course Dwalin knows that Thorin doesn't particularly like to express his affections openly, neither with members of his family nor with his husband. So he just grabs Thorin's hand and squeezes it gently, Thorin squeezing back._

_"Are you nervous?" he asks. Thorin is caught out by his question - he thought he was coming across as perfectly calm, but of course Dwalin can see right behind his supposedly composed demeanour._

_"I am." he admits. "It's not every day that something like this happens."_

_"Then enjoy it." Dwalin smiles. "Because I certainly will. And don't forget, if you embarrass yourself, I'll always be there to remind you of it for the rest of your life."_

_"Bastard." Thorin laughs and punches him in the ribs every so lightly._

_"That's exactly why you married me, isn't it?" Dwalin keeps teasing._

_"Yes, definitely." Thorin rolls his eyes but one of his hands stays firmly connected with Dwalin's and doesn't let go of it until they roll into the bus station._

*

On his way home Thorin kept wondering how much everything would have changed had he but listened to Azog more carefully, maybe gone through the tape again like he had done not so long ago, and opened his mind to the possibility that what the boy was saying could in fact be true. Could he have helped him like he had now helped Frodo? Would Azog be as happy now and not have become the terrified man that Thorin had met, his body now cremated and turned to ash? Would he and Dwalin still be living unperturbed by the horror that had visited their home that one night? Thorin didn't have answers, but the feeling of guilt inside him was growing stronger and stronger as he distantly wondered whether Azog and Frodo might have even become friends in a different world. Of course it was useless to keep thinking about these things, as his husband would have been the first to tell him - he had more urgent things to do now, something that he had been meaning to do for weeks, but always delayed for Frodo's sake.

Dwalin.

This time, when Thorin came home, Nat seemed to be waiting for him at the door. It was rather late again and the sun had already set. Thorin began shedding his cloak when he heard Nat meowing angrily and was surprised to find her staring at him with raised hackles. He smiled and bent down to her, reaching out to pet the cat but Nat hissed slightly before stepping back and Thorin frowned. What was wrong with her? Of course Nat didn't love him quite as much as she did Dwalin, but she had always liked Thorin and never said no to being petted by him.

"What is it?" he asked her, still frowning when she gave another loud meow and walked out of his sight and into the living room. Thorin sighed and follow her, frowning when he saw that the TV was running once again with the little film from their first wedding on it. His eyes travelled to the sofa and he felt his heart beginning to bleed when he saw the shape of Dwalin's feet hanging out at one end. He rounded the sofa, trying not to pay too much heed to the bottle and cigarettes on the table that seemed to have become a steady feature of their household lately, just as the dust everywhere and the signs of obvious neglect. Thorin supposed it was his fault as well since he hadn't really been around much and not done his cleaning duties as he should have. It only added to the nagging guilt inside him.

Now, however, he could finally do what he had been wanting to do for so long - talk to Dwalin, set things right between them so that they might find the same happiness and joy in their lives together that they'd had for fifteen years so far. _You can do it when he's sleeping_. Frodo's words were ringing in his head again and he looked over at Dwalin who was curled up on the sofa, a blanket haphazardly thrown over him and deeply asleep although his dreams seemed less than pleasant if the frown on his face was any indication.

Thorin lifted his hand to smooth out the hard lines on Dwalin's face, but aborted his movement halfway through when he realised it would likely wake his husband up. Maybe it was truly better to try and talk to him in his sleep, as Frodo has suggested. He just needed to find the right words...

With a sigh, Thorin settled down on the ground with his back to the sofa that Dwalin was sleeping on and looked at the rerun of the wedding on the TV. This scene was after the speeches he had seen recently - the moment of their wedding vows that they had written themselves beforehand. Even though the volume on the TV had been turned down so that it was impossible to hear anything they said, Thorin still remembered every single word of it.

He hadn't rewatched the little film his sister and the others had made in a long time and smiled at the memories. Dwalin had and still was taking his breath away in the kilt he was wearing, its bright colours perfectly in contrast the black and white of the rest of his formal ensemble. Thorin had decided on his best suit, the only tailored one that he owned in dark grey with a little bow tie. Nobody else would have recognised them, but he smiled as he saw the little signs of nervousness in Dwalin's demeanour, the way his fingers were restless and how his legs seemed close together in contrast to the confident stance he usually occupied. Nonetheless, his touch as he slipped the ring on Thorin's finger had been more than gentle and Thorin could still feel the ghost of it on his skin when he just tried to remember hard enough.

He could also remember the laughter in Dwalin's voice when they had gone to decide on their rings and the engravings inside and Thorin had requested that the date of their wedding would be engraved inside as well.

"Afraid you'll forget our anniversary?" he had asked him and Thorin had sent an angry glance in his direction.

"Shut up." he had told him, unable to keep the laughter out of his own voice. "The date makes then unique. And who knows, once we are old, maybe we _will_ forget."

"I seriously doubt that." Dwalin had grinned in reply and Thorin had just shaken his head and rolled his eyes, although, of course, in the end they'd had the dates engraved as well.

He turned around, looking at Dwalin with a smile on his lips, ready to shake him awake softly and talk to him. Surely a bond as strong as theirs couldn't be severed this easily. Dwalin murmured something in his sleep and shifted slightly, the movement causing his left hand to drop out of the blanket. Thorin stopped in his movement and for a moment, he forgot to breathe when he looked down at his husband's fingers.

There were two rings on his ring finger.

Two rings where there should only be one, his wedding band, the one Thorin had given him which, although outwardly only plain silver, had the short version of their marriage oaths in gaelic inscribed into them, much like the key ring that Dwalin had given him for his second proposal. Thorin's breath began to hitch and stutter when he looked at the second ring sitting above Dwalin's on his ring finger - it was Thorin's.

He looked down at his own hand in disbelief, barely noticing the trembling of his fingers. His wedding ring should be sitting here, the same comfortable weight it had always been since the day they had first married. He knew that he would never lose it or forget it anywhere. It had become as much a part of his body as his hair or eyes were. And now it was gone, on Dwalin's ring finger instead. Thorin's mind was teetering on the edge and he did not know what to think.

"Dwalin..." He could see Dwalin unconsciously burying himself more deeply inside his blanket.

Thorin stood up, stumbling in his haste and from the strange feeling running through him. Something was wrong, it was utterly and completely wrong and he still couldn't say what it was, his mind reeling back from everything he had seen and experienced so far - the silence in their home, Nat's odd behaviour, strangely closed doors and his own wedding ring on Dwalin's finger.

No.

He went out of their living room, almost stumbling when he ran up the stairs. He barely noticed how strong the signs of disuse had grown here, the shapes of bloodstains still faintly visible on the carpet even though there was a layer of dust over them already. There were so many memories hidden here, good and bad, of how they had almost destroyed their bed when trying to bring it upstairs, of how they had argued for over a week about the colour of their shower curtains, of love and pain and a frightened young man pointing a gun at Thorin and then at himself.

Thorin leaned against the wall, his breathing coming in painful little gasps as he tried to comprehend. His chest was hurting again and he pressed his hand on it, trying to stop the pain with nothing but the sheer power of his mind, freezing when he felt something wet under his skin.

Cold was creeping up inside him as he stared down at the blood on his fingertips.

And then he finally remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna...sit down now and wait for the angry messages to arrive from those who didn't know the movie beforehand xD.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I can finally give you the title song for this baby: [Disfigured, by Rag'n'Bone Man ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGC5iKfixs4). You should DEFINITELY listen to it ;). 
> 
> (as you have probably all guessed by now - tw for character death)

_"THORIN!"_

_Dwalin's scream is oddly distant, just as everything seems to have become strangely unreal. It's as if time has slowed down - he sees Azog pull the trigger and feels something throwing him back against the bathroom door and to the floor and faintly notes how Azog shoots himself, the remnants of his head splattering all over Dwalin. Even the blood seems unreal now, bright red and thick like in a movie._

_He wants to get up and get towards Dwalin, but for some reason he can't and when he looks down at himself he sees that he's bleeding, a lot._

_Strange._

_He can't even remember the bullet hitting him._

_Some very distant part of his brain is thinking something about a lucky hit into an artery and shock and first aid and Don't Close Your Eyes, but even that seems unimportant to him now. Thorin tries to keep breathing, but it is weirdly difficult, as if someone had put an anvil on his chest._

_"Thorin, no. No, don't. It'll be fine, it'll be alright, just don't move. Thorin, please..."_

_Dwalin drops down on his knees next to him, babbling and his eyes wide in panic as his hands are already fumbling with the wound on Thorin's body, taking off his shirt and pressing it against the bloody patch on his chest, carefully lifting his arms to fold Thorin's hands over it in order to keep pressure on the wound._

_"Keep pressing it down, Thorin. Yes, like that. Yes. I need to run and get the phone so I can call help. Don't close your eyes, alright? Keep the pressure. I'll be right back, I promise, just don't leave me."_

_Thorin tries to say something, but he doesn't manage more than to croak Dwalin's name. He tries to put pressure on his wound but for some reason his arms don't really comply and so he just lies there, swirling darkness at the edge of his mind._ Don't leave me. _he wants to call after Dwalin._ Please, don't go. I need you. I love you. _But all that comes out are quiet little whispers that don't reach his husband, carried away by the shadows that are pulling at his thoughts._

_Breathing is getting harder and harder and so is keeping his eyes open, although there is still no pain. Shouldn't he be in terrible pain? He can hear Dwalin shouting from downstairs, but it feels like his thoughts are dragging through mud and he cannot make out the words. There, steps on the stairs and soon Dwalin is back, immediately pressing down on his wound again whilst talking into the phone he is holding up to one ear._

_He puts it down quickly enough and looks back at Thorin, his hands and face still covered in Thorin's and Azog's blood._

_"An ambulance is on its way, Thorin. Come on, you've got to hold on just a little bit longer. Do it for me. For Dís and Víli. For your nephews." He bends over Thorin so that he can look him into the eyes._

_"Dwalin." This time Thorin manages to say his name clearly, if only just. Thorin wants to tell him how beautiful he looks even now, with the strands of white and silver in his beard and those grey eyes that he will forever be able to drown in. But he doesn't have the strength and so he hopes Dwalin can read it in his eyes, just like he always could. He can hear Dwalin talking to him, still, talking of his sister and their wedding and his nephews and everything that they have shared, in hopes of keeping him awake. Somehow he knows it won't work._

_Dwalin's eyes are the last thing he sees before the darkness closes around him._

_*_

"No." Thorin was still staring down at his hands, at the blood running from his chest. But of course a simple word could not fix what had happened, could not shove aside the truth he had always known, yet refused to acknowledge.

_They don't know they're dead_.

Frodo's voice was ghosting through his mind again as he remembered everything the boy had told him that one night in the hospital.

_They cannot see each other and only see what they want to see._

Everything made sense now - all the odd gaps in his consciousness, stretches of days, weeks that he couldn't remember because he had never lived them. He only appeared whenever Frodo had needed him and when his thoughts of Dwalin had bound him to the place where they had lived together. He thought of the objects he thought he'd touched, handled because he was used to using them. His own mind creating the illusion of life where there was none. And Dwalin's behaviour - comfort food in the middle of the night, the anti-depressants on the shelf and empty whiskey bottle on the table. Him wanting to move out. He wondered faintly whether Dwalin had felt his presence in an distant corner of his mind and whether that had made everything better or worse for him.

Despite everything, however, he was glad that he had been able to come back - Frodo had needed his help and he was the only one who could have given it to him. A part of him wondered whether Azog's ghost would still be here too, or whether he had found his rest now as well when Thorin had recognised his error and helped the one who had been so similar to him. He was also still surprised that he had managed to gain Frodo's trust so quickly - but at least the boy's fear at the beginning had been understandable now and Thorin wondered what he had looked like to him, whether he had appeared as a creature of nightmares or a normal looking man.

He looked down at the faintly visible spots of dried blood on the floor and wondered how Dwalin had even managed to stand continuing to live in the same place where he had seen one man shoot himself in the face and his husband bleeding out beneath his hands. Thorin shook his head and walked back down the stairs again, already feeling lighter and as if he were dissolving at the edges. Nat hissed at him as soon as he entered the living room again and this time Thorin just gave her a small smile, holding out his hand to her as he crouched down.

"I didn't know that cats can see the dead." he told her softly. "I'm sorry for intruding. I'll be gone soon. Will you take care of Dwalin for me? I know he'll need you. Just...make sure he's alright."

Nat meowed again, as if she had understood every word Thorin had just said to her and, after a moment, took a few tentative steps closer to him, rubbing her head on his knee before going back to her favourite spot next to the TV. Thorin looked around again with new eyes and a changed mind.

He hadn't noticed all the boxes in the room before and Dwalin's favourite black sports bag next to the door - it was clear that he would move out soon, maybe to live with Dís and her family for a while as Thorin hoped. Nat's crate was next to the bag and she was already eyeing it suspiciously, always having hated the thing. Thorin smiled when he remembered many a chase through their flat in order to get her to the vet in time.

He took a deep breath (did dead people breathe? Probably not, but the familiar motion helped to calm him nonetheless) before he stepped around the sofa and in front of Dwalin again who was still sleeping on it, twitching and frowning.

"Hey Dwalin."

Thorin knelt down next to him, still not daring to touch him for fear his fingers would suddenly glide through him even though he had been able to embrace Frodo earlier. Dwalin's frown seemed to smooth out slightly.

"Thorin." he murmured in his sleep.

"Yes, it's me." Thorin smiled. "I've come to say goodbye."

Dwalin was shivering slightly and Thorin remembered how Frodo had told him that it got cold whenever a ghost was angry or upset. He wondered how Frodo had been able to stand it never to tell him what he truly was.

"I'm so sorry, my love." he said gently. "There was so much more I wanted to say. Things I wanted to do with you, places that we wanted to see...promise you'll still do it all at some point. Maybe take Dís and her family. Or maybe, some day, you'll be able to find someone else who you can give your love to."

Dwalin shifted again, closer to him and Thorin could feel his facade slowly giving in as his hands began to tremble again.

"Remember how we always wanted to do that road trip to continental Europe? Just us and a rental car or two motorcycles for an entire month? And all that even though neither of us can even drive on the other side of the road..."

He chuckled quietly.

"And we wanted to take Dís and Víli and their kids to Scotland at some point, too. Remember that old little hut close to the coast where we spontaneously decided to have sex? We were pulling grass and gravel out of our underwear for days afterwards. Imagine if we told Fíli and Kíli about that. Their disgusted faces would be a sight to behold. After that, we never really had outdoor sex again although you always said you wanted to do it on the beach somewhere. I bet the sand would have been even worse, don't you think? And there was always that one German cake you wanted to try and make. Blackforest Gateau."

A tiny smile was pulling at Dwalin's lips and Thorin hoped his dreams were more peaceful now.

"I wish we could have had so many more years together." he told him. "I've always wanted to grow old by your side and then die in my sleep, with your arms around me. I guess sometimes things just don't go the way you want them to..."

Dwalin shifted again and Thorin saw his lips forming Thorin's name once more. He wished he could still their desperate murmurs with a kiss of his own.

"Please take care of Dís, will you?" he asked him. "I know she has her family, but she needs you. And you need her. She will take care of you, too. And Nat as well, of course. I'm sure Fíli and Kíli will be delighted to have a new pet to play with."

Thorin wondered how long he would be able to stay. He could already see his fingers slowly growing translucent and felt a pull at his body, as if from far away. There wasn't much time left, he suddenly knew. His work here was done and it was time to go.

"There's only one more thing that I need you to know." He took together all his strength and love, hoping that the words would reach Dwalin, that he would somehow _know_. "You were never second for me. Ever."

Thorin desperately wished he could stay for longer. He bent over Dwalin, whispering the I Love You in his ear even as he studied his features, traced them with his gaze like he would have traced them with his fingers had he still been alive, revelling in their beauty. They looked almost peaceful now, as if something had given way inside Dwalin and finally granted him rest.

Thorin smiled.

"Goodnight, my love."

*

_Sunshine playing on the grass. The scent of summer in the air, of food, of love. Two pairs of hands holding each other, grasping what is between them, trembling a little in anticipation of what is to come._

_"I promise to honour you for the rest of my life, to protect and support you in all things. I vow to be with you until the day you die, stay by your side for good things and bad, love you until the end."_

_A ring is slipped over trembling fingers, a tentative smile stretching over thin lips._

_"And I promise to be yours for the years that remain to us, to respect you and honour you and love you with everything that I have. I will support you no matter what we may face in the future, will remain loyal and strong by your side. Forever."_

_A second ring, this time on the other hand before grey eyes meet blue and they pull each other close. Lips meet and for a moment, nothing exists in the world but them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _We'll long live all those lives_  
>  You tell yourselves  
> You will be alright  
> But there's no kiss goodbye  
> Only the end  
> Only the night 
> 
>  
> 
> (Thank you to everyone for their kind comments and feedback whilst I was publishing this – it was wonderful to input from people and see what they thought, both those who’ve seen the movie and who haven’t! I feel kinda bad wishing you all Happy Holidays now after this. Uhm. Happy Holidays? >


End file.
